Enmity
by Eirian1
Summary: Teyla wakes in the infirmary on Atlantis. She has no memory of what Michael has done to her; knows only that he has her son. What will she do when Woolsey pushes her too hard... too far? Virtual Season 5 Episode 3
1. Act 1

Author's disclaimer: I do not own _Stargate Atlantis_ and its associated characters. MGM does, for which, for the most part, they have my utmost respect. No copyright infringement is intended in writing these stories.

My deepest respect also goes to the talented actors that brought to life the characters we see in _Stargate Atlantis._ My portrayal of the characters here is based on my perception of the work of Joe Flanigan, Jason Momoa, Rachel Luttrell, Paul McGillion, David Hewlett, Amanda Tapping, Robert Picardo and Connor Trinneer. Without these people and those that came before them, there would have been no _Atlantis_ as we know it today.

Other assorted original characters (i.e. those that don't really appear in the show) are my own creation, and they, along with the original material presented here are © Eirian Phillips 2008.

Story is rated for mature readers, according to whatever rating system is adopted these days for Fan Fiction. It changes on a site by site basis… It was so much easier way back when…

There may be other virtual seasons of _SGA_ out there in cyberspace. Some may even be unofficially official. However, as a writer, I don't believe that this should discourage others from having their own ideas about things. Mine are presented here.

I can be reached at Feedback is always welcome and emails are usually answered.

Characters and events are purely fictitious, and any similarity to anyone living, transformed, dead, cloned or in any alternate universe or timeline is entirely coincidental.

Stargate Atlantis

**Enmity**

A matter of trust.

_"…knowing the address where we eventually found Teyla, you will be able to get there much quicker. You'll save Teyla, save the baby, change the fate of the galaxy."_

_Hologram of Rodney McKay – The Last Man_

**Previously on Stargate Atlantis:**

Teyla forced herself to look away from the monitor where Michael was showing her the image of her child. Swallowing down the mixed emotions she felt she asked urgently, "Why are you doing this?"

Michael turned off the scanning device and moved to another terminal, only just in sight, no matter how much she tried to keep him within her line of vision.

"On the ship, Kanaan said our son would serve the cause." She listened for a moment to the sounds of Michael working at the console. "What did he mean by that…?"

"…He is genetically unique…" he said softly as he returned to her side, "and, while I've made a lot of progress with my hybrids, there are still some details that need to be worked out."

Looking into his eyes, and he into hers, she tilted her head, the deepest frown on her brow, but was conflicted by the genuine lack of menace toward her son she clearly felt from him. Forcing herself to grasp the fading edge of suspicion she narrowed her eyes.

"This child," he nodded toward her pregnant belly before concluding, "will help me do that."

**

"You think I will not do everything in my power to ensure I get away and keep my child safe from your cause!" she said harshly, emotional pain finding its way to her face; to narrow her eyes and curl her lip like some cornered animal. "My friends will be here soon, and they will rescue me… rescue _us._"

Michael took in a deep breath, regarding her as a veil of sadness began to descend over his eyes. He closed them in a long, slow blink, and then swallowed before looking at her again and telling her softly, "They aren't coming, Teyla."

**

With a sound like the popping of an old valve television set, the monitor snapped back into blackness, all save for a single Wraith character in the lower right corner that changed with each passing second.

"No, no, no…" he questioned the screen. "No, no, no, no, no. What happened?"

"What's that?" Lorne stepped up behind him and pointed to the changing character, the concern in his voice making it more than clear that the marine already suspected what it was.

"Oh no!" Rodney straightened up and slowly began to turn.

"Doc?" Lorne asked urgently, pressing for confirmation.

"It's a countdown," McKay answered breathlessly, as from around the compound the sounds of small explosions began, first one, and then another… and another after that.

"Colonel, it's a booby trap," Lorne called out, as a deep rumbling began, and the walls of the compound began to tremble. "We gotta get outa here, now!"

McKay followed him quickly toward the door, but neither man made it before the supportive steel girders came crashing down across the doorway, cutting off their escape. The two of them kept their heads low, trying to avoid the falling debris, trying to see through the rising dust; to find a path through the partially blocked doorway, but both were forced to take shelter when the fall of masonry from the ceiling increased until, with a sound as though they were in the centre of the biggest thunder cloud and the percussive press of what must have been a dozen separate explosions, likely more, the world McKay knew dissolved into the comfortless black of oblivion.

**

After a moment she turned again to face Michael, and then glanced beyond him to the immobile figure on the other bed. He was shrouded in a kind of cloth-like film, and around his bed, equipment hummed and Wraith text scrolled across a screen. She asked, "What of Major Lorne?"

"I have done everything possible," he told her. "There is nothing more I can do for him."

**

"I had to pull the file to be sure," Keller said, "but I found a high concentration of a drug which bore a frighteningly uncanny similarity to Doctor Beckett's retrovirus in the Major's blood."

"What do you mean, _similarity_?" Ronon asked, frowning.

"I mean it's a drug that could have been based off the same research, though it's entirely more stable. It's Wraith in origin. So I looked deeper." She looked around at the Major and said softly, "Major Lorne has been exposed to Michael's retrovirus. His cells are mutating and have already been subsumed by a high concentration of Wraith DNA. For the last two hours I've been administering the strongest NRTI drugs we possess, but it's hardly slowing it. Without help…" she swallowed hard, watching the realisation dawn on them all, before she finished, "Lorne is going to become one of his hybrids."

**

Vega was already on her feet and sprinting toward McKay. She launched herself at him through the air as the whine of the Dart's engine became unbearable, but the Dart did not open fire. Its culling beam swept beneath its path right into the exposed heart of the building. It was barely a second before the beam disengaged and the Dart powered away from the space they had fought so hard to reach, where McKay and the others were no longer.

**

Slowly Michael unwound his fingers from Vega's hair as he took the component from her trembling hand. Then, without another word to her, he turned and started to the door.

"Wait," she called after him, "What… what are you going to do to me?"

He paused in the doorway and looked back at her over his shoulder. The cold amusement in his eyes withered what was left of her spirit.

"It is already done," he told her.

**

Todd moved to the last of the prisoners the Queen had brought him and wound his hand almost angrily into the long dark hair, to pull back the head and study the hybrid subject as he had the others, but instead he frowned in confusion.

Hissing, alerted by his surprise, the Queen swung around to face him and stalked back to his side. She leaned down to grasp the prisoner's chin and tip her head still further back. She, as he had, peered at the face, turning it first one way, and then the other. She searched for any trace of the characteristic features of the hybrids and, finding none, let out a long, slow breath that came out as a dangerous hiss, before she ran her fingertips over the unblemished face of the young human woman.

**

Under his breath, Sheppard muttered, "Come on, Michael, don't just sit there," hardly believing those words would be coming out of his mouth.

He closed his eyes as the beam reached Michael's ship and the shield around the cruiser flared brightly. His heart sank; shrivelled. He'd gambled and he'd lost. So many lost to save so few, but on his team, so long as he was the military commander, no one was left behind. No one.

"—it's holding!"

"What!" his eyes snapped open and he peered at the heads up, but even as he looked, it fizzled into darkness, no longer receiving data from the sensors.

Sheppard abandoned the technology in favour of good, old-fashioned eyesight and watched in fascination as the beam, somehow reflected from Michael's shields, undulated wavelike, toward the Wraith cruiser.

**

Todd could almost taste the anticipation as the Cascade Beam raced across the distance between his cruiser and that of the Abomination. He mentally counted the seconds until, with an almost snarling hiss, he watched the shields of the other cruiser flare brightly. Any moment they would collapse inward. The energy of the beam would feed back through the nodes that generated the shields and would disable them and the comm. array and would send a cascading overload throughout all the systems of the ship, destroying it from the inside out and there would be nothing to be done to prevent it.

Seconds passed and a frown, born of confusion, found its way to his face as his sensors failed, the chatter of Dart telemetry falling silent on the bridge. He grasped the controls, letting his mind fall into oneness with the cruiser's interface and ran a diagnostic program to try and find the cause of the failure. As the answer came to him the blood in his veins chilled and slowed.

"That's not possible," he said aloud, and abandoned his position to race to the forward viewing port. Even before he saw the leading edge of the approaching wave, he felt the cold touch of a thought inside his head that did not come from any one of his brothers.

_-Did you think I would forget?-_

**

Michael tilted his head to one side and regarded her. Curiosity, and something else she could not quite place, softened the frown that had been etched on his face. She tugged again on his grasp as he continued to hold her wrist, but was unable to free herself even from his light restraint. She was unable to dismiss the feeling that he was playing with her and yet knew, from somewhere deep and hidden inside of herself, that he was not. Was it this she fought, as she tried to free herself?

"I think you understand far better than you allow yourself to believe, Teyla." His soft but serious words, and his use of her name, sent a shiver through her. He tilted his head from one side to the other. "From the first time we met, even before we came to blows—"

"You _remember_ that?" she could not help the surprise from showing in her voice… in the way she looked at him… for just a moment seeing not the hybrid he had become, but the Wraith he had once been.

He let out a long, slow breath, his eyes burning into hers and she was unable to look away. She felt her colour rise, and swallowed.

"Over time," he confirmed, "I have come to remember."

**

"What has changed, Michael?" And there had been a change, inside of her as well as from him. Her anger remained, as did the fear she felt for the people of the Pegasus galaxy, her people… her son… She dropped a hand to rest on the upper side of her curving belly and felt his eyes shift to take in her movement. The expression in his eyes, for a split second only, showed a depth of concern that surprised her, unsettled the belief in his only motive being one of using her child to further his cause. She felt his concern and for a moment felt protected, almost… safe.

"I realised that if you are to trust me, as will become necessary," he looked up from her belly to find her eyes again, "then I must demonstrate that trust in you also."

**

"Teyla…" A soft voice to the side of the open space made her turn her head. Kanaan stood looking at her, hands by his side, and in one of them he held a weapon. "…please, there's much you don't understand… you must listen to him—"

"Kanaan—?" she started, but her voice cracked and stopped the rest of the sentence before it began.

"—You must go with him," Kanaan continued.

"No, I can't, I—"

"You must," Kanaan said darkly and took a step further into the area. She watched him, tears gathering in her eyes. The conflict inside of her stirred still more deeply as she looked on the man who had once been her closest childhood friend. Never would she have imagined she could have gone so far as to cross such a line as they had.

She sensed the change in the feeling coming from Michael in the same moment that the background hum of the ship changed the way it vibrated through her contact with the bulkhead. A smouldering anger, mixed with resigned longing, washed over her. Michael took another step toward her, and with nowhere to go, she started to raise her hands, meaning to fend him off.

"We don't have time for this," he told her, suddenly reaching forward, "It's not safe here. We _must_ go."

"No!" She lashed out as he reached for her and on pure reflex he blocked the blow, and took another step toward her as she growled, "I will not—"

The pain was only fleeting - a burning heat that began somewhere in her chest as the rhythm of her heart faltered. It spread outwards through all of her limbs, draining her strength. She managed to turn her head toward a sound she had barely registered – high pitched and harsh. Kanaan still stood with his weapon raised, and pointed in her direction.

"No… Kanaan," she whispered, and as the blue lights of the cruiser began to darken around her, she reached for the one person who had only ever been true to his words to her.

Michael caught her flailing hand and guided it to his shoulder as his arm came around her, supportive and strong. He gently lowered her to the deck and did not let go of her.

**

She felt his concern strengthen, a hint of the same pressing fear that she had felt surrounded some part of him, in the deep places of his mind, where he would not normally allow her ingress. Curious, she pushed, expecting in that moment he would shut her out and push her away as he had always done before.

_Memory… a long and darkened hall and a doorway ahead. Guards with covered faces… and a chamber… an important place…_

She looked up at him, her gaze lost in the golden stare he fixed on her. He took a step closer, and slowly began to move around behind her. She knew that so great a chance to understand a part of Michael she had never seen could not be allowed to pass her by.

_A darkened chamber… the only light a swirling mass of colour from above… pulsing to a heartbeat… a burning… a hunger_

She turned her head to follow his movement, to keep him within her view. She should have turned when he came around her shoulder and she could no longer see him, but could almost still feel him there behind her… close. In spite of every sense of danger within her, and the painful echo of the same from Michael, she pushed still further, pushing against him now that he was aware of just what she was doing.

_Weakness within strength… a dizzying need… overwhelming_

Her breathing became shallower and she began to feel light headed. She closed her eyes against the fluid spin of the room before her. The blue light of the walls pressed inwards. She reached out toward the bed to steady herself, but it was too far away. Her head fell back…

_Denial… pain…_

He was there, behind her… His arm came around her, beneath her own outstretched arm and wrapped around her body, pressed against her shoulder to hold her to him as he stepped closer still to balance her weight. She could feel his breath against the side of her head; his heat against her spine…

_And a mental barrier… strong… but he was tiring… weakening…_

_-Teyla don't! No!- -Teyla don't!- Teyla-_

_A presence… anger… cold fury._

…_Michael……Michael…_

_=I will find you=_

"Michael!" she called out to him in panic at the malevolence which flooded into her. It was raw and angry… violence incarnate. It gripped every part of her, threatening to crush her and at the same time tear her into atoms. She felt the movement of her child become as frantic as her breath, and unaware entirely of what she was doing she clutched at his supporting arm, at the same time fighting to be free of him, fighting his grasp.

**

The pressure that was Michael increased as some flash of instinct took over from her rational mind. A need for control, for trust, enveloped her and in giving up that one small moment of herself, slowly the painful darkness pushing at her began to fade, and the ship… and everything around her began to come once more into her awareness.

"What _was_ that?"

"I told you," he said with just a hint of anger in his voice, "The Queen was actively searching for me."

**

She was beautiful, exquisite to behold. Tall and lithe with unblemished, pale green skin, enhanced by wondrously complex Wraith characters that formed an almost delicate string from her collar bone, over her chest and disappeared beneath the tight bodice of her otherwise flowing, blood red gown. Her fingers were each tipped with sparkling but deadly blades and her long white hair hung in hundreds of tight, slim braids, weighted by the jewelled knuckle bones of the human females' fingers that had soothed and served her over the many millennia of her life… for she was ancient… perhaps the oldest of all of the Wraith Queens.

As Todd looked on, he could not help but adore her…

"What of the other?" she hissed slowly, her eyes again narrowing in barely contained fury.

**

"But Michael, why? What does she _want_ with you?" Teyla asked.

The edges of a wry smile twitched at his lips, and the smallest of breathy, humourless laughs escaped him. But he tilted his head to look at her, and in his eyes she thought she saw the echo of pain, regret. When he raised his hand toward her cheek she froze, uncertain, very unsettled. She barely felt the softest of touches as he brushed back her hair from her cheek with the back of his hand.

"What do any of them want?" he said, blinking. "She knows of the threat I pose to her, and all of the Wraith." He blinked again, and let his hand fall away, as if suddenly becoming aware. His voice became clipped once more, and his gaze dropped momentarily to take in the curve of her belly. "She seeks to undo my work."

**

Pain, sudden, deep and penetrating, tightened the ache from her back like a vice around her middle. It was brief, fleeting, but unmistakable.

Michael's head snapped up and back to capture her with his eyes, burning now in deep concern that was coloured with his anger toward the Lanteans.

"Teyla, look at me."

"Michael," she sobbed his name, but shook her head in refusal to follow his command. "My child… my baby is coming."

**

The heavy metal door stood open. The oxidised walls of the room dripping in the reds and greens of rust, and forgotten equipment, remnants of a desperate time, lay strewn across a floor that was dusty with neglect.

A heavy metal bench graced the centre of the room. Bloodied swabs and callous looking instruments, abandoned in a hurry, burdened its surface, and in the corner, broken medical machinery still sparked out its last, dying breath.

She lay pillowed in the dust; watched over by the solitude; mourned only by the rust that ran, as tears, down the filthy wall… her pallid flesh picked out by fading light and her last breath heard by none save the lone whine of one retreating craft.

**

_"You know, the irony is... I never asked for any of this. I was taken prisoner by the humans, tortured, experimented on, and when I finally escaped and returned to my wraith brothers, instead of being welcomed back, I was met with scorn."_

_Michael – The Last Man_

**Act 1**

She had no sense of what it was that woke her, but suddenly she became aware of a slow, but steady beep – high pitched and regular. It was only then she realised that her lungs burned with the need for air. Gasping, she opened her eyes. For many long moments she remained confused, looking around at the darkened room.

There were monitors all around, their screens turned away from her, and it was from one of these that the sound emanated. She glanced at herself long enough to see that she was covered in an infirmary blanket and wearing one of the shapeless white gowns. Around her left arm was wound a dark cuff – she knew, but could not recall, its purpose – and on her index finger a clip pinched her flesh tightly.

She turned her head the other way to see the clear plastic tube from a drip running to her right forearm, and still further to see the colourless fluid that half filled the bag to which the tube was attached. Beyond were more monitors, and a window with blinds that were closed.

Teyla knew this place.

She tried to sit up, pushing a little with her elbows on the cushioned bed. Pain blossomed low in her belly as she moved, a deep, dull pain. She bit her lip and, reminded, looked down at herself again. A single glance took in all that she needed to know. Her heart constricted, and gasping again to push aside the pain she levered herself up until she could see even the furthest corner of the room. Her eyes quickly searched for the little plastic container that Doctor Keller had once shown her – a bed, she had promised her, though not the most comfortable of places for her baby to sleep. She saw nothing, and her constricted heart began pounding relentlessly in her chest until it echoed in her ears – a deep knell of loss and counterpoint to the high pitched bleep that had become more insistent.

Perhaps in another room…

She tried to free herself from the equipment, shaking off the clip from her finger, and pulling off the cuff from her arm. She tried to sit up still further and found her movement halted by the tugging of still more wires that disappeared beneath her gown. She let out another gasp that was almost a sob, her hands unable to reach the pads that held the wires secure.

Frustration finally drew the sob from her empty, aching breast and, without thinking, she grasped the plastic tube of the IV line and ripped it away from her arm, crying out with the sudden added pain, and then, with more freedom to move, pulled on the wires, until they, if not the pads to which they were anchored, came away from her chest and she was able to swing her feet around and push herself from the bed.

As her bare feet touched the cold of the floor, her legs, somehow weakened, almost buckled, and she had to catch herself on the side of the bed. The deep ache in her belly sharpened and she moaned, pressing a hand to herself. _Empty_.

Ignoring the growing sound of running feet she turned full circle, searching again for that precious container, for a way to find it – find him. The memory hit her like a sudden summer storm.

_His hands were gentle as they moved over her, tending to her needs, making her more comfortable before almost tenderly covering her with a blanket, the softness of which surprised her._

_"Rest," he told her quietly, "The birth has been hard on you."_

_He started to move away, but she reached out and weakly caught him by the wrist, "Please… my son…?"_

_"Healthy," he smiled faintly and glanced from her to the opposite side of the room, "and resting as you should be."_

_"Let me see him," she pleaded._

_"I do not think that is wise," he told her, almost with a note of regret in his voice for just a moment, before he continued more firmly, "It is better that you do not."_

_He stood then and turned from her to cross the room and, from a small chamber there, picked up the wrapped and swaddled baby, before heading for the door._

_"Michael," she tried to rise, but was flooded by a wave of tiredness… weakness. "Michael, please…!"_

Broken, she gave voice to the sob, born of all the loss and emptiness. The sob became a cry, and as the cry faded it resolved into a desperate plea.

"Michael!"

"Easy, Teyla…" the voice behind her had her spinning, unsteadily, to face the medical orderly that approached her with arms outstretched to either side of him. "You're safe."

Her breathing came in snatches now, between the ragged sobs she fought to keep inside. Trembling, she started to back away from the man, shaking her head. The room began a dizzying dance around her and once more she reached out to steady herself against the side of the bed as she moved away.

"It's all right, Teyla," another voice, another orderly behind her. She spun again to face the second man. His arms, too, were outstretched, palms open. "You're home…"

She froze, cornered, tense and shaking, as they came closer… one small step at a time. Her eyes darted first one way, and then the other as she inched one foot behind her, keeping on her toes as she moved, no matter the added ache from her belly as she did. Closer and closer they came, arms still outstretched, reaching for her.

Fingers connected with her arm, and a hand closed around it. She pulled against the contact. The very feel of being touched an assault to every atom of her being, burning against her flesh as the fear was given form in the panic that flooded from that touch. Desperately she reached out. Her hand connected with the smooth cool of metal. She snatched at it, and heaved with all her strength. The IV stand came willingly at such a strong grasp, into her hand, into the air until she could swing it, staff-like, at the man that touched her. He fell away, staggering against one of the monitors. Frantically she heaved the stand around to the other side to throw it in the direction of the other orderly. He backed away.

"All right… easy," he said softly.

More running feet… she tilted her head, a little to the side, and back, her breathing coming in tiny little gasps of panic as she identified the sound – boots. She took another step away as the soldiers came running into the room. The orderly tried to stop them, but they ignored him and kept coming.

Reflex guided her actions. She made a grab for the trolley beside her and all but threw it in the direction of the black shapes moving toward her. They tried to move aside, but the first was too close, and the spinning trolley caught him full on and sent him tumbling to the floor. The others slid to a halt to avoid their falling companion.

She backed away still further, pulling everything she could into the path between herself and the others in the room. Still she searched, becoming more and more frantic. Pain on hurt assaulted her heart.

The cry did not find its way from her body until the solid wall crushed the air from her lungs as she reached the extent of her desperate flight. It started as a simple sob, but quickly built until everything she was, all the pain and sorrow and loss from all her days, came streaming from her and she began to keen. Softly at first, a deep and melancholy note of grief. She curled her fingers into claws against the tile of each of the walls that met behind her. The tone that came from her became harsh, brittle, as she took a breath, and throwing her head back, let out an agonised howl, like that of a wounded animal.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?" Doctor Keller's voice, somehow she knew the sound, and from the tone, Jennifer was angry. "Get out of here! Back away!"

Teyla opened her eyes again, to fix the doctor with a silent plea for help. Keller held a syringe in her hand. She felt betrayed by that and she could not even breathe… the room spun faster, and the strength in her legs failed. Her back still against the corner of the room, she slipped gracelessly to the floor. The last thing she saw was that the doctor raised her hand to her radio headset.

**

His head ached. Woolsey hit the page up button on his laptop and began again to try and read McKay's interim report on the technology discovered so far on M3X-667 in the wake of the Wraith's departure. He could not help but wonder why all of McKay's reports had to read like the text of a senior PhD thesis. The momentary crackle of static that resolved into a voice on his headset radio disturbed this, his fourth attempt.

_"Mister Woolsey…"_

He tapped the button on his earpiece. "Doctor Keller, what can I do for you?"

_"I thought you should know… She's awake."_

**

Sheppard had never felt more relieved, but at the same time worried to death. He hovered behind Doctor Keller as she consulted the equipment at Teyla's bedside. He tried very hard not to start pacing, and glanced at Woolsey who stood at her side, arms folded, a most serious expression on his face.

Around them the evidence of Teyla's awakening still lay scattered over the floor. The remains of the broken equipment had yet to be collected for disposal or repair. Teyla, herself, had been returned to her bed, and for the moment – and Keller had assured him it was only a temporary measure – was restrained there by cushioned bands around her wrists. She was awake, but her eyes, glazed and unfocussed, stared into the middle distance. They were red and still overly moist, as though she was still crying, and yet had run out of tears. Finally Jennifer stepped back a little from the monitor, and gave Teyla the smallest of smiles.

"That's much better," Keller said softly, "Your blood pressure has stabilised and your pulse is near to normal again. I think you're…" She hesitated for a moment as Teyla closed her eyes and let all of the breath sigh out of her body. "…just about back in the land of the living."

Just when Sheppard was certain that Teyla hadn't heard, or would not respond to Jennifer's soft words, she took another breath, tilted her head a little and then turned it so that when she opened her eyes, she was looking at the doctor. Sheppard shivered. Behind the terrible blankness he saw in Teyla's eyes, there was a spark of something cold and hard.

"…living nightmares?" Teyla croaked, her voice raw. The words were not quite a question.

Before Jennifer could answer, Woolsey stepped forward, fixing an almost softly cheerful expression on his face.

"Hello, Teyla," he said, his smile growing just a little, "Remember me?"

The angle of Teyla's head shifted slightly until she looked at Woolsey with the same, almost uncomprehending, frigid blankness. Undeterred by the expression, Woolsey reached out a hand toward Teyla. Instantly she recoiled, shrinking as far away from his outstretched hand as the restraints would allow.

"Don't touch me!" she barely whimpered, and her nostrils flared with her suddenly ragged breathing. Her whole body shook beneath the blanket. Keller pursed her lips and shook her head just a little at Woolsey. He blinked, and glanced at Sheppard.

He said, "Colonel Sheppard is here."

Sheppard cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Hey Teyla…"

As she looked at him, the blankness faded from her eyes, the teardrops gathering there as the hurt flooded in on her expression. Her lips trembled with the effort of holding in the sound that was just starting in the back of her throat.

"Teyla… can you tell us where you are?" Doctor Keller asked softly, trying to reach the rational part of Teyla's mind.

She didn't answer… not at once. It took everything in him for Sheppard not to reach out and lift away the single teardrop that escaped as Teyla began to turn her head first one way, and then another as if searching for something.

"…Nethaiye…" her voice trembled when she spoke.

Keller frowned in apparent confusion and told her, "We have you in a private room off the infirmary in Atlantis."

Teyla fixed her eyes on Keller again. She took another shuddering breath and her expression hardened a little. He'd seen this kind of thing before, and knew that Keller should have too. As subtly as he could, he reached a hand to guide the doctor away a little, and moved to take her place close by Teyla's head.

He leaned down a little, and said confidentially to the Athosian woman, "I know you know that. Can you tell us what happened to you?"

Teyla struggled. She pulled against the restraints to move her hand. She managed enough to bring her straining fingers to rest against the side of her belly.

"…My son…"

Woolsey stepped forward again as her voice, such as it was, trailed away. "You went off world with Major Lorne to find Kanaan, your child's father. You were captured by Michael."

Sheppard cringed, expecting some kind of outburst at the mention of the Wraith-Human hybrid's name. Teyla simply closed her eyes and turned her face away.

"…Michael…" she whispered.

"I can see that you obviously remember _him_." Woolsey said, not without a little harshness in his tone.

Teyla opened her eyes again. The blank, haunted expression faded a little, as though she was slowly waking, becoming more aware of her surroundings. She raised her eyes to look at the doctor as she asked, "What… did he… do to me…?"

Keller sighed. "We were hoping you could tell _us_."

Teyla shook her head, and closed her eyes in a long, slow blink that dislodged another tear. When she opened them again, this time, she looked to Sheppard, almost begging him for an explanation.

"We sent out several rescue missions," he began apologetically, "but… Michael always managed to stay one step ahead… until we got an unexpected break after we found a community of Wraith worshippers, and this _huge_ hive ship… and then we found you, but—"

"Teyla, you've been unconscious since we found you. You had us all very worried." Keller interrupted.

"Why can I not… remember any of this…?" Teyla asked, her voice trembling on the edge of tears.

"Colonel, Doctor, I don't think we need to confuse her with the details." Woolsey glanced between Sheppard and Keller, but Teyla reached out toward him, her movement rattling the restraints.

"Please… no," she corrected him, "I want to know."

**

_"We hadn't long been back from the planet where we found the Wraith Worshippers that had been battling against the other indigenous people that had contacted us for help. We were gathered in Woolsey's office and…"_

"Sorry to interrupt, Mister Woolsey, but…" The technician hovered in the doorway as though he was the one that had drawn the short straw. Sheppard tried to look sympathetic, but the frustration he was feeling at Woolsey and his constant arguments must have been more than clear on his face, "… a few minutes ago we started picking up a signal on our long range sensors…" the technician glanced over at Sheppard before he continued, "I think you're going to want to see."

"We're in a meeting," Woolsey snapped.

"Yes, sir, I know," the technician turned his gaze more fully in Sheppard's direction before he added, "But it's Teyla's locator beacon and—"

"What!" Sheppard was on his feet so quickly that the chair toppled backwards. He was only just ahead of Ronon as they made their way out to the control room.

"You realise of course that this is a trap," Woolsey said as he arrived.

Sheppard, peering intently at the screen on which the signal was flashing, waved his hand dismissively. "And knowing that, we can work around it," he said. "This is not something we can ignore, Woolsey. First Michael leads us to the Wraith outpost, and now this?"

"Which is precisely my problem with it," Woolsey said, making a grab for Sheppard's arm to turn him around. "He's using you. He wants you there for some purpose, and what better way to manipulate you than to make you think that Teyla's there. How long has it been now, since that beacon was disabled?"

"No, that's beside the point," Sheppard shook off the contact. "If she _is_ there, and we don't go… we let her down… _again."_

"Colonel Sheppard—" Woolsey started, but was cut off by Ronon who stepped up, putting himself between the two men, and staring down at the base commander with an angry snarl fixed on his face, spoke in a low and dangerous voice.

"The next words out of your mouth better be 'you have a go' or I swear—"

"I was merely trying to point out the dangers," Woolsey said, unconvincingly, but clearly intimidated by the threat Ronon was making.

"Your caution is noted," Sheppard said, "Ronon… down boy."

Ronon growled and turned away from Woolsey. "Where _is_ that?" he asked the technician.

"M7S-445 Alpha," the technician answered, bringing up the star map onto the screen with the locator still flashing clearly.

"Alpha?" Sheppard queried.

"That location has two gates. One on the planet, and a space gate in orbit…"

"Well then, there's our way in," Sheppard grinned. "We take a cloaked jumper in through the Orbital Gate, drop down and—"

"You should be aware, sir, that there's a lot of Wraith activity in orbit," another of the technicians said quietly, trying not to glance Woolsey's way as she spoke. "Probably on the ground too."

"—or… we… could… head over there in the Daedalus," Sheppard amended his plan. "With the Wraith about, there's even more reason to investigate."

**

_"So that's what we did… Daedalus had just gotten back to Atlantis after a supply run, bringing in new personnel. Caldwell was more than happy to take us, and what little time longer it took us to get there in hyperspace, well… we all of us needed to catch our breath…"_

"Looks like we got a lucky break," Caldwell turned in his seat to address Sheppard and the others as they made their way onto the bridge of the Daedalus. She broke from hyperspace just outside the system.

"That'd be a first," McKay said moodily.

"What do you mean?" Sheppard threw McKay a sour look as he came to a standstill beside the command seat.

"According to our long range sensors, Wraith activity is on the other side of the planet from the location of the beacon. They seem to be following some kind of search grid, both in the air and on the ground," Caldwell answered, pulling up the HUD. "If we take and obtuse approach vector that keeps the planet between us and the Wraith as an extra precaution, you should be able to take the Jumper down to the beacon's location completely undetected."

"This is all too easy," Ronon grumbled, walking through the HUD projection to stare out of the forward viewing port. "There's something else going on here…"

**

_"We took the Jumper right down into the compound… there was space enough to land and we could come in under cloak. We figured that if there was anyone there… if it was a trap, it would give us a better chance of spotting it before it was too late, and give us a way to get the hell out. But nothing happened… the place was deserted…"_

"Whoa! Talk about Déjà vu." McKay breathed as they stepped out of the rear of the Puddle Jumper into the courtyard of what looked like some kind of factory facility. The buildings were dwarfed by the cooling tower that rose into the sky close by where they'd landed the Jumper. Around the building, storage silos stood easily as tall – menacing reminders of the recent past.

"Just… don't touch anything this time," Sheppard advised, readying his P90, and carefully darting across the open ground. He flattened himself against the wall and, after checking around the corner, called across to the others, "Clear!"

"I don't like the way this feels," Ronon said as he joined him, back flat against the wall of the building.

"I don't much like it either," Sheppard said, and frowned, "but—"

"Great," McKay interrupted breathlessly as he reached the two of them. "When you two are done re-enacting _Star Wars_, maybe we could get on with finding this beacon so that we can get the hell out of here."

"Will you keep your voice down," Sheppard ordered, and had to bite his lip to hide the smirk as McKay gave him a sarcastic smile at the deliberate quotation. Quickly he took another look around the corner of the building, this time to locate a door through which they could enter. "Okay… it's about ten yards along the side of the building…" he braced himself ready to make the run, and then caught himself, turning round to McKay again. "And remember… don't. Touch. Anything."

"I wouldn't, I…"

Whatever else McKay might have said was lost as Sheppard launched himself around the corner, weapon trained away from the building, running slightly sideways to keep himself protected from behind until he reached the door. By that time he could hear that Ronon had followed him, with McKay bringing up the rear. Abandoning caution, he threw himself at the door, breaking the rusting hinges to send the door tumbling inward.

Clouds of dust greeted them, catching the fading light of the evening sky, and as the clatter of the door's demise faded into an eerie echoing hush, the steady sound of McKay's tracking device and it's steady 'heartbeat' punctuated the tension of their waiting.

Ronon took the lead in the face of Sheppard's suddenly churning stomach. It was all too similar to the picture he had built in his mind as the older McKay had spoken to him of Michael's treatment of Teyla. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to follow the Satedan.

The heavy metal door stood open as they reached it. The walls of the room were stained with the red and green of rust coating their metallic surfaces. Forgotten equipment, perhaps the remnants of a desperate time, lay strewn across a floor that was dusty with neglect.

As they approached they could see the heavy metal bench that graced the centre of the room. Bloodied swabs, tossed aside with apparent carelessness, and callous looking instruments lay on the tabletop, and in the corner, broken medical machinery still sparked out its last, dying breath.

She lay pillowed in the dust, still dressed as she was when last he had seen her, though the clothes hung about her now, too big against her no longer burdened belly.

"Oh no!" Rodney broke the terrible silence that had fallen as all three of them had skidded to a halt in the doorway. "Teyla…"

As though Rodney's voice broke the inertia that held them in place, Ronon dashed across the distance to where Teyla lay, immobile. He dropped to one knee beside her and reached for the side of her neck.

A hollow emptiness assaulted Sheppard when he saw Ronon bow his head and breathe out a deep and heavy sigh. No more would she speak words of comfort or advice to him after a hard and heavy day. No more would her tender smile break the tension of a moment, or her light laughter show the ridiculousness of a situation. No more would—

"She's alive," Ronon said breathlessly.

_"He carried you back to the Jumper… wouldn't let go of you actually, not even when the Medics aboard the Daedalus came to assess you; treat you…"_

**

Teyla's body shook, and her face was wet with tears when he had finished his retelling, "I cannot remember anything… of any of it… The last thing I remember is… the Dart overhead… Lorne called a warning, and then I was… nothing."

"You're not nothing, Teyla!" Sheppard said firmly, his teeth clenched.

Keller reached out again, to lay a comforting hand on Teyla's arm, but froze as Teyla once again shrank from the touch. She said, "I promise you, Teyla, I'm going to do everything I can to help you through this. We all are, but right now I want you to try and get some rest, okay?"

Teyla nodded, closing her eyes as Keller shooed them out of the isolation room and followed them close behind. As she came, she fell into step beside Sheppard.

"You didn't tell her about him," she said.

"Are you surprised?" he countered, looking at her in something approaching horrified shock.

"She needs to know, John," Keller said gently. "If we start keeping things from her it's just going to add to the trauma she's feeling."

"I'll tell her," he said, then at her expression of doubt he added, "I will, just… not now – not yet."

_Relief flooded through him at those two simple words. Sheppard took in a huge breath and swallowed back the rising emotion as he watched Ronon picking Teyla up as though she was the most precious thing in the world._

_"Sheppard!" The tone in McKay's voice made his heart lurch again and he turned quickly, raising his weapon as if to fend off an attacker. McKay was crouching beside another immobile figure. This one lay face down on the other side of the room, near the windows. He noticed that one of them was broken… shattered in a strangely explosive pattern. The figure was dressed in the simple, home spun clothing, covered with a leather and padded armour-like vest he'd come to associate with Michael's army._

_"One of Michael's hybrids?" he asked._

_"You could say that, but…" McKay reached out and carefully turned over the body. "…I don't think that's quite the point."_

_Sheppard sighed as he looked down on the man, and then glanced back toward Teyla, cradled in Ronon's arms._

**

With a serious frown creasing his face, Woolsey walked into the observation lounge that overlooked Teyla's hospital bed. The room was darkened more than usual, and Major Hollick stood behind a small group of marines who sat watching the room below on screens fed by the video cameras trained on the bed from many angles. One of the marines had tape stitches holding closed a recent gash on the side of his cheek.

"Major Hollick," Woolsey said as he walked in.

"Mister Woolsey," the major nodded respectfully to him.

"You were watching?"

"Every word, sir." Hollick confirmed.

"And?"

"I wouldn't like to say at this point, sir," the major said, and then added, "but she did a pretty good job on my men… completely lost it, you might say."

Woolsey nodded, "I want you to keep a close watch on her, Major Hollick."

"Sir?"

"Until we know more… until the truth _finally _unfolds itself, we must proceed with extreme caution." He turned away from the Major, to look through the window and look down on Teyla as she lay, unresponsive once more, staring into the middle distance of nothing ahead of her.

"You don't trust her," Hollick observed. "You think this might all be some kind of act?"

"Perhaps not an act," Woolsey said, "But I'm not ready to believe everything she's said either. Whatever is going on down there may just be the start of a whole new set of problems for us."

**

Their heavy booted feet crunched on broken glass and splintered wood alike. The once orderly buildings lay in broken heaps, hardly recognisable. The bombardment of the Wraith and the fighting on the ground had virtually laid waste to the entire settlement. What was left smouldered and tumbled on crumbling foundations; the very image of abandonment.

Ronon glanced behind him to take in the sight of the jagged, gaping wound that had once been the mountain. Carrion birds circled in the sky overhead. Many of the Haradian soldiers had fled into what remained of the caverns once the fighting had begun in earnest; when Ynek had led his people in rebellion against their former masters, but it was a dangerous place, and random rock falls, not blade or gun, had ended their lives. The carrion eaters fed well.

So, too, had the retreating Wraith. As the Darts had pulled away to join the departing Hive ship, their culling beams had swept across the landscape, taking Ynek's people and their former servants alike. Those of the once powerful Haradians that remained were scattered and divided; a leaderless rabble, fighting like cornered rats for survival.

Ronon and the members of Bravo team spread out, fanlike, aware of the danger from those that remained. They were alive to the sounds of shifting rubble that could have been the careless foot falls of would be attackers. Captain Warsh signalled to the marines of the team – _Secure the perimeter_ – then moved to take his own vantage point.

Ronon waited until he was satisfied that the marines were secure enough in their places before he lightly tapped McKay's arm and then jerked his head toward what remained of the Haradian council hall.

"Ow!" the scientist complained.

"Sshh!" Ronon hushed him.

"Well," McKay hissed, "do you always have to hit me so hard?"

"When I hit you," Ronon grumbled quietly, "You'll know it." He grabbed McKay by the arm and began to drag him toward the ruin. "Come on."

**

Night would soon be falling and they were first to reach the designated rendezvous point. Ordinarily Halling would not have worried over this, but he knew how unpredictable the environment was now that the Wraith had left the Haradians – both Ynek's people and the former worshippers – to their own battle for survival and he knew that his friends were in the thick of the worst area of all.

"Perhaps we should turn back," one of his fellow Athosians said as if he had been reading his troubled thoughts, "try and find them."

Halling sighed. "No. For if we miss them, then we could both walk in circles the whole night and never meet each other, and there are still those here that believe the Wraith will return, and restore them to their former mastery of this world." He shook his head and concluded, "They will come."

**

McKay ran a hand across his tired brow. He'd been working for hours without as much as a cheese sandwich to keep his strength up. What was left of the Wraith console had been difficult to access, and after his last experience with Wraith-tech, he'd chosen a very cautious approach. Not that there was much of a building to come down around his ears this time, he thought sourly. At first he'd opted for trying to download the remaining data onto his tablet, but when that proved just how fragmented it was, he decided that the comfort of his own laboratory back on Atlantis would be a much better environment for his work.

Since then he had been working to extract the computer core and memory storage units. It was taking time… too much time.

"How much longer, McKay?" Ronon asked him for the seventh time.

"As long as it takes," he snapped, and then his hand slipped and he caught it painfully on the side of the console's casing, "Look, I'm working as fast as I can, but parts of the mountings have melted and fused the fastenings into place. It's taking me time to cut through them so that I don't damage what's left of the data in retrieving the core."

"Let me see," Ronon demanded.

"Ronon, you can't just—" he started, then stopped as Ronon grabbed a hold of the damaged side of the casing and, groaning with the effort, ripped it away from the outside of the device.

"How's that?" the Satedan asked.

"That's… yeah, thanks," Rodney answered in surprise. "That should make things… easier to reach."

"Hurry," Ronon told him. "It isn't safe here after nightfall."

McKay nodded and picked up his cutters, trying to ignore the ever more insistent rumbling of hunger as he began to cut away at the moorings that were fused into place. Ronon moved away to give him space to work. One fastening after another fell to his precision cutting and he was soon able to begin wrapping the memory modules for transportation, slipping them into the case that lay beside him.

"Look, I'm almost done," he said irritably as he heard a heavy foot fall behind him. "It would go a lot quicker if you stopped checking up on me every five minutes."

Ronon gave no answer and the hairs on the back of McKay's head started to prickle with a sense of danger.

"Ronon?" He turned and saw, not his Satedan friend, but the biggest, most fearsome Haradian soldier he had ever seen. Granted he hadn't seen many, but this one was easily twice the size of any of the ones that had been a part of their capture, and imprisonment. He yelled, "Ronon!" and rolled aside as the soldier swung a club for his head.

Prone, he struggled to pull his sidearm from its holster, and then rolled over to try and take aim. The Haradian was right above him, club raised. He closed his eyes and tried to squeeze the trigger of his weapon.

"Really…" he said in panic when the metal resisted the pull of his index finger, "…we can talk about this…" in panic, he fumbled with his thumb for the safety catch. "It wasn't my fault. I wasn't the man who—!"

He let out an almost feminine scream as the Haradian fell, suddenly, on top of him to the sound of Ronon's blaster. The club bounced, not quite harmlessly, off his shoulder.

"If you're done playing around," Ronon grumbled as he lifted the dead weight from on top of him, and then grabbed him by the front of the jacket to haul him to his feet, "we need to get out of here."

"Right, yeah, I…" McKay straightened his jacket and cleared his still squeaking throat, "I'm ready, I'll just…" he pointed behind him at his tools and equipment, to indicate that he would need to pack them away. Ronon just nodded, and turned to keep watch as he did."

**

Halling looked up at the sound of a night bird's call, then came to his feet from where he sat beside the small fire, as the sound of footsteps came through the darkened countryside. He smiled in relief when he saw Ronon and McKay coming at the head of the team of the soldiers from Atlantis.

"Ronon Dex," he said softly, and came to greet the man, placing both hands onto the former runner's shoulders, and bowing his head.

Ronon bowed his head until it touched to Halling's, before he straightened, and gave the smallest of smiles, "It's good to see you, Halling. When Ynek said you were here…"

"I know," Halling said, "It must have worried you greatly. I apologise, but we could not remain in our new home, knowing that Teyla still suffered at the hand of—"

"No," McKay broke in. "That's one of the reasons we asked Ynek to arrange this meeting."

Halling frowned. "There have been developments?"

"I'll say," McKay began, but was cut off by Ronon.

"We found her. She's back on Atlantis," he said.

Halling staggered, the relief was so great. "She is well?"

"She's… when we left she was still unconscious, the way we found her." Halling paled, but Ronon held up his hand. "Don't worry, Jennifer's giving her the best care, I promise."

Halling nodded, and then said, "It is good news. We should return to our new home. There is still much to do there."

"Listen, if I can help…" Ronon began, but Halling shook his head.

"You have your arms full with all that you must do with the people of Atlantis," he said, adding with a smile, "But know that you are always welcome to visit… and when she is well again, perhaps you will accompany Teyla to see her people."

"Count on it," Ronon answered.

**

Doctor Jennifer Keller had finally managed to get the observation room to herself, and stood looking down on the resting, but too wakeful figure of her patient.

Teyla's sats were normal, her electrolytes a little out of balance, but that could be put down to the traumas she'd suffered, and aside from that, physically she was in a surprisingly good condition. Only the mental trauma bothered her. Speaking with Teyla, it had become obvious that she could remember nothing of the time from when she was taken by Michael, until her awaking on Atlantis… and became quite agitated – almost clinically so – when anyone suggested otherwise. And that was the problem… she couldn't help but glance at the monitors behind her.

She turned full circle when Ronon came in, almost at a run and said, "They told me she's awake."

"Yes, she is," Keller nodded, and then as Ronon turned to head down to the isolation room she softly called his name. "Ronon, she's a little delicate… can't remember anything of her time with Michael."

"Can I see her?" he asked, frowning at the news.

"Of course you can," she told him, "I didn't tell you that to put you off, I just… didn't want you saying anything that might… bother her."

"Something's bothering you though, isn't it?" he asked, and when she didn't answer, he brushed a hand against her shoulder, "Jennifer?"

She looked up and gave him a tight smile. "It's Woolsey," she finally admitted.

"What about him?" he asked with a frown.

"I think he's… I mean… it's the way he's been with Teyla," she sighed, "It's not very… supportive."

"He's always been like that," Ronon started to tell her, "He's not very supportive to _any_ of us, you know that."

"No… I mean," she sighed again, "It's like he doesn't believe her or something… I… I just…"

"Jennifer," Ronon gripped her shoulder gently and leaned down to look her squarely in the face, "we've got her back, okay? I know you care about her. I do too. If Woolsey tries anything… he'll have me to deal with."

Keller pressed her hand against his chest lightly. "Thanks, Ronon."

**

"Hey, Teyla," Ronon tried to sound cheerful as he put his head around what passed for a door in the isolation unit. "Can I come in?"

The blankness faded from Teyla's eyes, and as she looked up at him she actually almost smiled. "Ronon, thank you," she said as she nodded her assent.

"Hmm?" he asked, coming into the room.

"You are the first person that has bothered to ask," she told him. "Everyone else sees my presence in this bed as reason enough to be able to walk in and speak with me as they would, regardless of how _I_ might feel."

Ronon pursed his lips. "They mean well, Teyla – leastways, Sheppard and the others."

"I understand that," she said, and turned her head against the pillow to try and move a strand of hair that had fallen across her face. "It is just nice to be asked."

He stepped closer, and rather than watch her struggle, gestured a little toward her face, "You want…?"

"Oh, Ronon, I…" she closed her eyes for a moment, a look of emotional pain crossing her face. He understood, somehow, from her reaction that she both wanted him to, and at the same time did not.

"Well then, at least let me," he gestured toward the restraints still fastening her arms to the bed.

She nodded slowly, "Thank you."

"I thought you'd maybe want to know," he said, trying to sound casual as he began to pull the Velcro fastening open, being careful not to actually touch her, "I spoke with Halling earlier."

"He is well?" Her tone was one of simple happiness at the news, and when he looked up at her, there was a genuine smile on her face. She pushed the hair away from her eyes.

"Worrying about you," he told her with a nod and a smile, "We all are."

He moved around to the other side of the bed to unfasten the second restraint, and then stood beside her with his arms folded, looking on her and waiting for her to speak.

"I feel… I feel so lost, Ronon," she said softly after a moment or two and she turned her head to look up at him. "Everything I had; everything I knew… he has taken it from me. I can remember nothing of what happened. I know nothing of what he might have done to me… the only thing of which I am certain is that he has my son."

With each word she spoke, more tears gathered until her eyes were awash with them, but still she would not let them fall. It was as if by some power of will she held them back. In some strange way he understood completely. Something deep inside of him answered, in empathy, her need to keep a hold of the emotion she felt – and he did not doubt that she felt it, for all that everyone around him had warned him of her detachment. One day soon, he knew from experience, the dam would break.

_Melena_

"Ronon…" her voice was barely a whisper, but the hand she laid on his arm was the loudest cry for help. Gently he covered her hand with one of his own, and she turned her hand beneath his to hold it tightly. "…I feel so empty… he has my son…"

"We'll get him back, I promise," he told her, tightening his own grip around her hand. He did not worry for crushing her fingers; for hurting her with the strength of his grasp, he only knew that she needed him to be the solid ground on which she could, even for just a moment, make her stand. As he continued to speak his voice became harder, more dangerous, "We'll find Michael, and when we do we'll avenge it all. Everything he's done… everyone that has fallen because of him…"

"Kanaan," she whispered, "he…"

His heart sank, and he sighed. "Teyla—" he began softly, but she cut him off with a surprisingly vehement tone in her voice.

"Kanaan is dead," she said.

"You—" he started, surprise barely masked in his voice. "How do you _know_ that?"

She shook her head, her breath shuddering in her chest, as though she was weeping. She opened her mouth as if she would answer, her eyes closing, shutting in the weight of the unshed tears still gathered there. For many long moments she remained that way, on the cusp of answering. Eventually, with a sobbing breath, she said, "I feel it."

"I'm sorry, Teyla," Ronon told her softly, "We found him when we came for you. We couldn't bring him with us. We didn't have time. You were barely breathing. There were Wraith in the area we—"

"I understand," she said, quietly cutting him off. "It is enough to know. Thank you."

"We'll avenge him, Teyla," he told her, his jaw tightening, "All of your people that Michael took. Every last—"

"I only want my son," she whimpered then, as if the strain of holding everything inside was breaking in on her. "Find him, Ronon. Please… for Nethaiye…"

Before he could answer, and surprising him, against her former reticence to touch, she sat up and reached for him. Without the slightest hesitation, he wrapped her in the security of his arms to hold her as tightly as she suddenly held him… and yet still, he noted… her tears refused to fall.

Movement in the corner of his eye made him look toward the doorway. Jennifer stood there, a soft and sympathetic smile on her face. She nodded to him approvingly, before she quietly moved away.

**

Her shivering was not only due to how cold she was, though that was a factor in it. Why did they need to keep the temperature of their ships so frigid?

"You know," she snapped irritably when the Wraith scientist moved back into her line of vision, "even lab rats are afforded a certain degree of comfort."

He looked around at her then, and tilted his head to watch her. Something about him, something that she couldn't quite place, made him somehow familiar to her. Not that there was much difference among the Wraith in her eyes. They were all of them pale and ghoulish… and for all that they each seemed to bear some kind of tattooed markings about their person, on their face or head or necks – from what she'd seen, there appeared to be little individuality otherwise.

After only a moment longer he spoke, turning back to his work as he did so. His voice was surprisingly soft and did not carry the same harsh quality of many of his fellow Wraith. "I'll see what I can do… about finding you something to wrap yourself in."

She could not help but blink in surprise. She had expected scorn and had received consideration. In rising hope she tried, "And maybe get me out of these restraints?"

He chuckled, a strangely warm sound. "A nice try, woman." he said, "but if the Queen were to pay yet another surprise visit…" he turned his head to regard her again. "…she would as likely feed on both of us, as payment for my… carelessness."

"Couldn't you just tell her I was helping you or something?"

For a long moment he looked at her, his yellow, cat's-eyes regarding her deeply, and then, as if he realised she was serious in the suggestion, he put back his head and laughed.

"You'll pardon me, but I don't _quite_ get the joke," she snapped, angry at being laughed at.

"You have much to learn about that one," he told her, "if you are to survive."

"That one?"

"The Queen."

Vega harrumphed at him. "Like that's going to happen, with no one around here telling me anything."

"What's to tell?" he asked her, turning from his work to approach her, and she could not help but step back into the alcove in which she, as the other test subjects, each had been placed. "You should be thankful that she has been as merciful as she has, so far."

"That doesn't exactly tell me anything."

"What do you want to know?" he spread his arms to either side, inviting her questions.

"Well, to start with, where the hell _am_ I?"

"You are in a research laboratory aboard my Hive ship."

"Your ship?" she raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought these things belonged to the Queens."

"Indeed," he said, his voice becoming a little testy, "but this is my ship and I have allied with the Elder Queen. We have a common cause."

"Like what?"

"Ah," he rumbled, "if the Queen wishes you to know that… she will tell you."

"All right then, why am I here?" she tried a different question.

"You know that," he told her, returning to his former soft tone, "you are a research subject for my work… at least for the time being."

"The time being?"

"The Queen has an interest in you," he told her. "She has a tendency to… enjoy being served by human females."

"You've got to be kidding!" Vega gave a short laugh, until she realised that he was serious, "Hell will freeze over before I lift a finger to serve her."

"Hmm," he rumbled again, "then in all likelihood she will feed on you… and that would be a shame at this point."

"What do you mean?" She frowned.

He shrugged, dismissively, and she was certain there was something he was not saying. "The human females in her service are well treated… perhaps even given some small measure of respect."

"What, I get to wipe her ass, and your fellow creepies out there leave me the hell alone?"

He chuckled again, "Something like that," he said.

"What are you researching anyway?" she asked, and watched him, wracking her brain to try and figure out why it was he was so familiar to her.

"I am trying to find a cure for the effects of the Hoffan drug, and a way for the Wraith to guard against it," he told her openly, "among other things."

"Other things?" she queried, picking up on his manner of giving her just enough information to let her understand that there were things that he couldn't tell her, for the sake of her safety. It confused her that it would concern him.

"Well, now," he said, walking a little down the line of alcoves and looking on their occupants, whom she knew to be hybrids. "Michael's hybrids are unlikely to be able to help in that respect, are they?"

"Michael's hyb—" The truth, the realisation of why she knew this Wraith, hit her as surely as if he'd taken the butt of a P90 to the side of her head. His manner, the star-like tattoo around his left eye… "Todd?"

He spun around to face her so quickly, and startled her so badly that she fell back against the bench that passed for her bed as he started back toward her.

"Do not call me by that name here," he said urgently, glancing at the door as though it would open any moment. "Colonel Sheppard sent you?"

He sat down beside her on the bench and reached out to draw her back into a more upright, more comfortable position.

"No, no, I…" she frowned and looked up at him, "I was beamed aboard one of Michael's Darts as Doctor McKay was searching the rubble for—"

"You have its research?" he cut in.

"No," she said looked away. "He took it from me."

"A pity," he said with a sigh. "But perhaps we can be of more assistance to each other than I thought."

Turning her attention back to him again, she hopefully held up her still fastened hands in his direction. "Hmm?"

"Regrettably… no," he told her softly, as he got to his feet once more, "For your own safety, you understand. However… I will bring you a blanket, and something warm to eat.

**

Sheppard couldn't help but feel angry at the thunderous expression he saw on Woolsey's face. He'd gathered them all in his office and, at least to Sheppard, it seemed like he was a boy once more, being called before the principal.

"I don't see your problem," Sheppard growled at him. "When it comes down to it, she's a member of my team – base personnel – not some kind of prisoner."

"My problem, Colonel Sheppard, is that I wasn't consulted," Woolsey snapped.

"She seemed perfectly all right to me," Ronon put in with a shrug, "Same old Teyla… underneath all the hurting, that is… but hell, you'd hurt too if you'd had your son taken by some… maniac!" he spat the last word, a verbal punch aimed at the absent object of his anger.

"What did she say to you?" Woolsey asked, turning to Ronon.

Sheppard saw a frown cross Ronon's face. It was the kind of frown that Ronon usually expressed just before he tore off some unfortunate Wraith's arm, or meant to make it clear to someone that if they hurt one of his friends the universe would suddenly become too small a place for the both of them.

"Ronon…" he warned.

"What Teyla did, or didn't say to Ronon," Keller interrupted, "whether or not you were consulted, Mister Woolsey, is not the issue here. The point is, she's my patient, and while she'll be under my care for the PTS and emotional issues, I had no medical reason to insist she stay in the infirmary. It was a medical decision. It was _my_ call."

"But—" Woolsey started.

"And in respect of the psychological issues she faces, Teyla's next step is to be reintegrated into the community in as normal a manner as possible." Keller continued. Sheppard saw her glance at Ronon with a look that could have easily said, _I told you so_.

"And you think she's ready for that?" Woolsey asked, sounding more than a little doubtful.

"I do," Keller said firmly.

"Well, I don't," Woolsey argued. "You saw what she did to the infirmary, and to base personnel. She may still be unstable, volatile even… and in my mind that means, so long as we don't know what effects the post traumatic stress is going to have on her behaviour, she could well be a danger to others… or to herself."

"What's the real issue here?" Sheppard asked suspiciously, once again looking between Woolsey, Ronon and Keller.

"He doesn't trust her," Ronon growled accusingly.

"That's not true," Woolsey said with a frown. "I trust her just fine. I just don't believe she's yet ready to be released into the community."

"Doc?" Sheppard asked.

"I've already given my opinion, Colonel," Keller said in a clipped and professional manner. "I think she's more than ready to get away from a medical environment."

"Well then it's settled," Sheppard said with a tone of finality and fixing his gaze on Woolsey. "It is a medical matter, after all."

Woolsey looked away from him, cornered by his own insistence on clear jurisdiction between departments on the base, and from the expression on his face, Sheppard could tell that he clearly wasn't happy about it.

**

Teyla knelt on the cushion she had set beside the small Athosian rocking bed. It had been there since before she left Atlantis with Major Lorne, and the last memory she had of it, was the tiny, cloudlike waves she had begun to carve on the side of it.

It was traditional among her people. The family would build the rocking bed, but the mother would be the one to carve it with images that represented her wishes and desires for the child.

"Peace," she whispered, as she traced the carvings with her fingers. "Nethaiye, how can we hope for peace now, when you are used as nothing but an instrument of war?"

"There's a saying that the humans of Earth have," Sheppard said from the open doorway, and she looked up at him, beckoning him inside with the movement of her head.

He stepped through the door and closed it behind him. She winced. Since she had been released from the infirmary, she had found that closed doors bothered her. They spoke to her of captivity. He came across the room to kneel beside her, one of his hands gently resting on the top of the frame that supported the rocking section of her baby's bed.

"You and your people have many sayings, John Sheppard," she looked at him, trying to keep the haunted look from finding its way to her expression.

"This is relevant, honest," he answered with the faintest of smiles.

"Tell me." With a sigh, and needing to feel comforted, she let herself slip from her knees, until she was sitting with her legs folded beside her and could lean against Sheppard. He did not seem to mind, and brought his free hand to rest lightly across her shoulders.

"No one knows who wrote it," he started, "but it's… _When the world says, "Give up," hope whispers, "Try it one more time."_ We'll find him, Teyla."

"I hoped you would come for me, John." she whispered. "I can remember nothing of what happened, of where I was… only feelings… and I hoped that you would come."

"I did," he said, and then more softly, "I tried. We followed every lead; investigated every sighting."

"I do not blame you for anything. That is not what I am saying," she turned her head against his shoulder and looked up at him. "I have to find him. He needs me."

"And we will. We'll find him, but you… you need to rest and get your strength back." He brushed aside a strand of hair from her cheek, and she flinched slightly at the touch. "I spoke with Halling a few moments ago. He said that if you wanted to, you'd be welcome to return to the Athosian village to recuperate."

She sat up, away from him then. "My place is _here_, John. I cannot stay with my people knowing that my son is out there…" she got to her feet and went towards the windows, "…enduring… goodness only knows what, at Michael's hands."

Sheppard nodded, and he too got to his feet. "All right," he challenged her, "so what are you going to do about it?"

She swung around to face him then, her voice firm and strong, "I will leave _no stone_ unturned until I find him."

"And then what?" he snapped. "What are you going to do, Teyla? Break down and cry? Beg him to give you back your son? You know as well as I do how far _that_ will get you. This is _Michael_ we're talking about."

"What would you _have_ me do?" she raised her voice. "He is my son! I am his mother – I cannot abrogate responsibility for his care, his safety, not to you, not to _anybody_. No matter how close they might be to me."

"And I'm not saying you _have_ to. Not forever." He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, "Look, all I'm saying is that you need to get back on your feet, and until that time, let _us_ start the search for you, and then, when you're ready, you can join us and—"

"I'm ready now!" she spat.

"I dunno, Teyla," he argued.

"Beginning the search would aid my recovery far more than an enforced period of helplessness, John. How can you not _see _that?"

"Because when people suffer a loss like this—" he explained, but again she cut him off, raising her voice in frustration at his apparent unwillingness to understand.

"My people are not like yours. We have suffered loss every day of our lives at the hands of the Wraith. We cannot afford the luxury of an extended time to grieve. We _must_ get on. It is the Athosian way." She took a step towards him, "Must you take everything from me that makes me who and what I am, the way you did to—?"

She stopped herself, actually stumbling a little as she pulled herself up short. She felt the tightness of a knot forming in her belly and a dizziness biting at the base of her skull. She fought with herself to keep the bile from rising in her throat as she realised what she had been about to say.

"Who, Teyla?" Sheppard asked quietly.

She shook her head, keeping every other muscle tense and trembling under her. "I am sorry," she said. "I am only frustrated at not being allowed to act to save my own child. I did not mean it."

He sighed, and after a moment of watching her, nodded, "All right. I'll buy that you're frustrated and desperate to get out there to find your baby, but I'm not convinced that you're ready, not with an outburst like that." He held up a hand to stop her from speaking as she opened her mouth to defend herself, and continued, "And Woolsey won't be either."

"You would speak to Mister Woolsey for me?" she asked him more softly. She trembled harder, still fighting with the nausea that was swirling inside of her as she fought to reconcile her thoughts and actions.

"My team, my call," he said. "But I know what it's like – living with PTS – and it's hell. So if you think getting out there will help you to find a way past it, then you get a good night's rest and report to the gate room at oh-six-hundred. Leave Woolsey to me."

"Thank you, John," she nodded, and watched as he left the room. His footsteps were harsh against the tile, and she knew that she had hurt him with what she had said… or rather, with what she had stopped herself from saying.

The terrible trembling in her limbs began again and the nausea strengthened with the realisation that it had not simply been an accusation levelled at him – at all of them – out of the pain of her condition, but that she _believed_ what she had been about to say and had always done so.

She barely made it to the bathroom, where she fell to her knees and vomited until she was weakened, almost helpless from it, and after cleaning herself up as best she was able, she curled up against the cold of the tiles to cool the feverish burning that suddenly assaulted her.

**

"If this is a joke, Colonel Sheppard," Woolsey said as he came down the stairs from the control room, practically two at a time, "then it's in very poor taste."

"No joke," he said, "I'm deadly serious. It's perfectly safe. It's just a routine reconnaissance mission. Rumours of a couple of hybrids spotted in a little village on M2H-423. We're just going to take a look-see, and being out there, feeling like she's doing something other than sit on her proverbial, while Michael is out there with her kid will help her recovery. Trust me."

Ronon gave him a look. It was clear that Ronon didn't believe him any more than Woolsey did. The problem was that he wasn't sure he believed it himself.

"It will be entirely on your head, Sheppard," Woolsey warned, "when this all blows up in your face."

"Isn't it always?" he sighed.

"He's got a point, Sheppard," Ronon said softly as they gathered the gear together that they would need for the mission.

"Yeah, I know," he admitted equally as softly, "but we'll be right there with her, and like I said, it's safe. It's just a routine mission, what could possibly—"

"Don't… say it," Ronon interrupted.

**

The village was typical of many in the Pegasus galaxy, and the tavern more so. The wooden walls, and splintering wood tables and chairs, spoke of the lack of sophisticated technology favoured by the indigenous peoples of many worlds, or forced upon them by the lack of opportunity for advancement. Culling by the Wrath often saw to that.

The three of them sat at the side of the tavern room, their weapons and gear stowed in their hold-alls under the table. Their own clothing was covered by rough spun shirts and pants. Sheppard glanced sideways at Ronon, who was eating from one of the bowls they had been brought by the proprietor. It never failed to amaze him that Ronon would happily do that, when even McKay would sometimes baulk at the indigenous cuisine.

"We must find a way to move closer," Teyla leaned towards him as she spoke. "I cannot hear what they are saying."

On the table behind them a group of local men were deep in conversation, leaning close to each other and talking in hushed tones.

"The one on the left just made mention of a small copse of trees about two or three miles away from the western edge of the village," Ronon said between mouthfuls of whatever meaty stew he was eating. "Doesn't that put it close to the gate?"

"I think so," Sheppard confirmed.

"What are they doing?" Teyla asked, frowning in puzzlement, "Recruiting?"

"Well," Sheppard leaned a little closer to her as he spoke, "We know he doesn't just use hybrids. They're too conspicuous for some things. So he'll need civilian agents…"

Teyla nodded, "Like Nabel."

"Exactly," Sheppard said.

"They're offering these people medicines," Ronon said, "must be the hook."

"Medicines for what?" Teyla asked.

Ronon shrugged. "I have no idea," he said.

"You're thinking it might be related to the effects of the Hoffan drug?" Sheppard asked Teyla.

"Well, you tell me that it is Michael that has been distributing the drug." she shrugged.

"So, you're thinking what?" Ronon asked, "Something for the symptoms?"

Teyla shrugged again. "I am not the one who can hear their conversation," she stressed.

"Seems like they bought it," Sheppard broke in on the tension rising between Teyla and Ronon. "They're leaving."

"Then we must follow," Teyla nodded and started to rise. Sheppard reached out quickly and grasped her wrist, halting her movement. She pulled on her arm until he let her go.

"Give them a minute," he said softly, "Wherever they're headed, Ronon can track them."

**

They sheltered in the lea of what remained of some animal shelter, watching over the copse of trees where the men waited. Sheppard glanced over toward Teyla. The tension in her body was visible, even without the slight tremor in her hand where it rested on the wooden frame of the wall against which they leaned.

"Take a breath," he said softly.

"I am fine," she said.

"All right," he nodded and was about to go on, but Ronon tapped his arm.

"Movement," the Satedan said softly.

"Just remember, we don't move until they leave… follow them back to their base of operations." He knew, as soon as the words left his mouth, that he had gone too far. Teyla's eyes tore through him. Her face set in a harsh expression.

"I understand the plan, John Sheppard," she snapped at him, "And do not need to have my hand held like a child."

"Teyla, I'm sorry," he said, "I—"

"They're here," Ronon told them from his vantage point.

Carefully he leaned up and peeped over the lip of the wall to peer over into the trees. The locals had been joined by a group of three others who, from the way they carried themselves and from their dress, could only have been Michael's hybrids. He couldn't help but wish that he could hear what was being said.

Beside him, Teyla leaned up to peek over the wall. He saw her knuckles whiten as she did; the tremor in her hand increasing. For a moment he tried to put himself in her position, to understand the conflicting pressures that must be running through her – duty… emotions… need… He began to visually measure the distance between the copse and their hiding place.

"I wish that we could hear what they were saying," she said. Her voice was tight, strained. "Perhaps if we could move closer…"

Reality asserted itself on Sheppard in that moment. He shook his head, "If we try to move now we risk being seen and blow any chance we have of following them."

Beside them, Ronon suddenly stiffened. "What was that?" he asked.

"What was wha—?" Sheppard started to ask, but as he got even part way through the question he began to hear the unmistakable sound of an incoming Dart. "Could be one of Micha—"

"There are Wraith here!" Teyla announced vehemently, just as the tone of a materialiser beam became overlaid on the whine of the Dart's propulsion. Beside him she suddenly hauled herself to her feet and took off at a low, crouching run.

"What are you doing? Teyla, no!" he called, and then swore softly to himself. "Crap!"

Ronon exchanged a glance with him, then shook his head, and pulled his blaster from the holster, and took off after Teyla. He had no choice but to follow.

They caught up to her at the edge of the clearing, surrounded as she was by a group of four Wraith. She had abandoned her P90 and was fighting the Wraith hand to hand with staves. Nearby the hybrids were also fighting, though what remained of the local men lay scattered on the ground.

Ronon led with his blaster, taking down at least three of the Wraith before he engaged another hand to hand.

Knowing his own limitations, Sheppard sheltered behind one of the larger trees, rolling around every now and then into the open to fire a quick burst of P90 fire into the path of the second wave of Wraith.

"Teyla!" he called a warning as one of the incoming Wraith slipped through his defensive fire and approached her from behind. She spun, her movements blurring in their speed to tackle the new threat, moving as she did to put herself into a more favourable position. He'd seen her fight before, had even sparred with her once or twice, but the determination and agility – particularly taking recent events into consideration – with which she fought here was breathtaking.

It was not long before her repeated strikes against both remaining Wraith had them on the defensive, turning and striking in an irregular alternating pattern with a vehemence that he was sure should have worried him. Finally she broke through the defences of one of the Wraith, and grabbed his head, twisting it so violently, that even over the sounds of Ronon's nearer battle against a single Wraith warrior, he heard the crack and pop of bone and sinew. She did not even pause for breath, simply turned against the other and began again.

This wraith was not one of the faceless masked warriors, but one of the hierarchy, who came on with a look of hatred in his expression unmatched in any Wraith he'd seen in a long time. The Wraith fought with the same strength of hate and rage he'd seen in his expression, but Teyla matched him, even though Sheppard knew she should have been tiring.

The flicker of a different kind of movement caught his eye just beyond where Teyla fought, and he glanced that way in just the moment that Teyla called his name in what sounded like extreme distress. The remaining hybrid, having freed himself from the Wraith, began to flee, heading deeper into the trees and heading for the gate. Sheppard couldn't get a clear shot.

Teyla called out again, a terrible note of denial and grief, and redoubled her efforts in her own battle, but she overreached herself and the Wraith caught her as she stumbled, turned her and pulled her against him, wrapping the fingers of his right hand around her throat, their barbed metal tips digging into her flesh as Sheppard came out from behind the tree, P90 at the ready.

"Drop the weapon or I will kill her," the Wraith said coldly.

Sheppard opened his mouth to make a witty, but cutting, remark about the Satedan standing behind him having other ideas, when Teyla herself answered him.

"I do not think so," she said in a quiet but deadly tone, and risking injury, or worse, she suddenly threw back her right arm and hand toward the Wraith's head. The Wraith roared in pain, and releasing her, fell away, both hands clasped to his face. She, however, did not pay him further heed. Instead she turned and began to move in the direction the fleeing hybrid had taken as the Wraith finally toppled backwards, dead, his own dagger sticking out of his eye socket.

"Teyla," Sheppard called to her, "Forget it. He's long gone!"

She stumbled to a halt, breathing hard, leaning against a nearby tree, and he guessed that the adrenaline was probably fading. He and Ronon both came to her side in the same instant.

"You all right?" Ronon asked her, and she nodded breathlessly.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?" Sheppard demanded of her. "You could have gotten yourself killed! Us too…"

"You did not have to follow," she told him, starting to move away from the tree.

"Not follow? Are you crazy?" he asked, following her as she moved back toward the centre of the copse of trees, studying the ground. "You're part of the team."

"Am I?" her head came up and she rounded on him. "Or is that just a convenient excuse to keep me at your side…? Perfectly happy to go along with my wishes so long as they fit in with your agenda!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Teyla," he said, backpedalling a little, "I don't know what this is about but—"

"Those men could have led me to Michael," she pointed angrily behind him, in the direction of the gate, "and to my son!"

"Look, just because these guys got away, doesn't mean they all will. But right now, we have to get back."

"I am not ready to return to Atlantis," she told him. "There are clues here, and we have to follow them."

"And _we_ will," he said firmly, "but _you_ are going back to Atlantis."

"Why? Because you think I am not fit for duty?"

"Maybe this _wasn't_ such a good idea," Sheppard said gently, "maybe I was right, and it's a little too soon, but… that's not the reason."

"Then what is?" she snapped.

"Teyla," Ronon answered for him, "you're bleeding."

**

"What do you mean, 'you can't get in'?" Woolsey stood with his back to the gate as Sheppard and the others came through the event horizon. He was talking to one of the marines.

"She's locked down the infirmary, sir," Major Hollick answered.

"What's going on?" Sheppard asked, frowning in consternation. It was never just one thing, with this place. Everything always happened at once.

"There's been a… development," Woolsey turned to him and answered, with a careful glance Teyla's way. A look of horror came over his face as he saw her, and Sheppard had to admit, the gashes either side of her neck did look bad. "My God, what happened?"

"We had a little bit of a run in with some Wraith," Sheppard answered. "Nothing we couldn't handle."

"You should see the other guy," Ronon joked.

"I'd tell you to take her to the infirmary, but that's where we have the problem," Woolsey said cryptically.

"Let me guess," Sheppard said, folding his arms. "Lorne's woken up and Jennifer's barricaded herself in the infirmary to stop you from going in there and hauling him off to a holding cell."

Woolsey's guilty expression was all the answer Sheppard needed.

**

"Major Lorne, Evan, calm down," Keller said softly, holding her hands out to either side of her. He let out another cry and twisted in the pain that had so obviously been assaulting him since he regained consciousness. Keller took a step forward and added, "You're safe. Let me help you… take away that pain."

As she moved, Lorne picked up the IV stand again and once more brandished it as a weapon. Keller froze.

"I only want to help you," she said.

_"Doctor Keller, this is Sheppard. I'm right outside with Ronon and Teyla. Open the door and let us in, that's an order."_

"I'm not going to do that, Colonel," she answered.

_"Either you let us in, or I get Rodney to bypass the security lockdown. You know how much he's going to whine about that, so which is it?"_

"Sorry, Colonel, the Major is my patient, and—"

_"I'm not planning on taking him anywhere, Jennifer!"_

There was irritation in Sheppard's voice, but sincerity too. After just a moment she keyed the code to release the lockdown, and then turned to face the doorway as Sheppard and Ronon rushed in, followed by Teyla.

"Easy, guys," she said, "He's just a little jumpy."

"Lorne," Sheppard came to her side, and reached out toward the Major, "Take it easy, no one is going to hurt you."

"C… colonel…" Lorne sounded like he was having to force the word from his lips, but at least it was progress, Keller thought.

"That's right…" Sheppard crooned softly, "Stand down, Major."

"Make… make it stop…!" Lorne begged him then, and cried out again, twisting in pain.

"That's why we're here… Doctor Keller will—"

"It's in my head!" Lorne screamed, "Make it stop!"

Keller saw Teyla take a step forward, a puzzled and worried frown on her face. She also couldn't help but notice the injuries the Athosian woman had suffered.

"Evan," Teyla said softly, "It's Teyla… I'm going to come to you."

"Teyla, no!" Jennifer said urgently, but was ignored, as Teyla stepped past her and walked calmly toward the Major.

She almost closed her eyes, not wanting to see what would happen when Lorne wielded his IV stand against her, but to her surprise, the Athosian reached the Major's side without him making even a single move. Teyla was even able to reach out and unwrap Lorne's fingers from around his makeshift weapon, and move it aside.

"There," she said softly, "Much better… now Jennifer is going to come and help you." Teyla beckoned her closer, "Come slowly."

As Keller took the first of her steps toward the Major at Teyla's behest, Lorne flailed again, as though he were in agony. Her steps faltered.

"Do not stop, Doctor." Teyla told her, "He needs your help." And then she turned her attention back to the Major and said, "Evan, look at me. Do not think about Doctor Keller."

Lorne gave another cry, but slowly lifted his head, opening his eyes again to look at Teyla. As he did, he tensed and came suddenly forward to grab Jennifer by the arm, drag her closer. From a nearby equipment trolley he snatched a scalpel, and brandished it threateningly at the Doctor.

"She is hurt," he said firmly, clearly, "See to her."

Keller spread out her arms at John and Ronon, both of whom had reached for weapons. "It's all right… no harm…"

"Put down the knife, Evan," Teyla said softly, "You do not need it. The doctor will help me willingly."

"That's right," Keller said, "See…?"

She started to reach for gauze and other equipment she might need to help Teyla. Slowly Lorne began to lower the knife away and moved a step closer to Teyla, allowing her to take the scalpel from his hand. Keller was just about to turn back to the two of them, when she felt a rush of cold pass by her shoulder, and a second in quick succession.

The sound seemed to lag behind the sensation as Ronon's blaster discharged, dropping an unconscious Lorne to the infirmary floor.

"Ronon!" both Keller and Teyla protested together.

"What?" Ronon asked, "You need to help Lorne, and you need to help Teyla. It's quicker this way."

"There was still no need to shoot him," Jennifer carefully felt for Lorne's pulse and then reached for a portable scanner. "His sats are all over the place. Help me get him back onto the bed," she said.

"Why did no one tell me what had happened to the Major?" Teyla demanded as she moved out of the way for Sheppard and Ronon to lift him back onto the bed.

"What did you want us to say, Teyla," Sheppard asked with a little sarcasm in his voice, "Hi, Teyla, glad to have you back. Sorry to hear about everything that's happened. Oh and, by the way, Michael's turning Lorne into a hybrid?"

Teyla sighed, "Perhaps you could demonstrate a little _trust_, John."

**

She lay partly on her side, her right hand resting on the pillow beside her head. The windows were open, making the lightweight curtains billow inward in the breeze. Teyla made the smallest of sounds, and shifted slightly against the sheets.

_She walked a long and darkened hallway, there were figures ahead, but she paid them no attention. Her destination, her desiderata, was ahead and none would keep her from it._

_She passed under an archway, into a chamber full of light, and heat… A consuming need flared deep in her belly. She trembled… burned with it… dizzied by the want of it… she closed her eyes._

_The sound of canvass moving in the breeze made her open her eyes. It was night and the chamber was gone. She was standing in the middle of a roundhouse. Around her, little lights flickered. She tilted her head trying to understand._

Teyla moaned softly, and turned her head to the other side, her breathing quickened and a light sheen of perspiration prickled against her brow.

_A touch, soft and gentle against the side of her neck, brushed aside her hair; fingers ran along the length of the healing cuts on either side of her throat. The passage of the touch soothed the burning there._

_She turned her head until she could find the side of the hand that touched her with her cheek, and leant it there. "Scratches… nothing more," she whispered._

Her lips parted, as she took a breath that shivered out of her, as though she was cold.

_The same gentle touch guided her to rest against down pillows covered in soft blankets that caressed her body like the hands of a lover… soothing and enflaming… both at the same time. A longing that was almost painful…_

She gasped, suddenly, and sat up as her eyes flew open. She looked around, and the breath she still held came out of her in a rush. Her body was burning with the memory of the dream… the longing for that gentle touch… the depth of the need…

The breeze over her heated body chilled her, and reaching for a robe, she wrapped it around herself as she rose to go and close the window. As she reached for the handle she froze. Caught in the reflection of the darkened glass was a figure, standing behind her, close enough to reach to her, to touch her…

_-Teyla-_

**

She gasped, suddenly, and sat up as her eyes flew open… finally awake, breathing hard. She took a deep breath to try and steady herself, her reeling emotions and frantic heartbeat… her shuddering breath… but as she let it out, he was all she could think, all she could feel.

On her outgoing breath, she sobbed, "Michael!


	2. Act 2

**Act 2**

"So, Doctor, now perhaps I can express my concern without accusations of officiousness?"

Keller sighed and looked up from the microscope. She had been expecting the visit since the altercation with Lorne and was surprised that it had taken as long as it had for Woolsey to try and reassert his command over the whole of the base – including the medical team. Then again, there had been the events that had happened with colonel Sheppard's team on M7J-394. She sighed again as she thought on that and concluded that no doubt Woolsey would find some way to use it to censure Teyla.

"Doctor?" Woolsey said, raising his eyebrow, when she did not immediately respond.

"This isn't about giving you the chance to come in here and say, _I told you so_," she said. "This is about the medical team providing the best possible care for a member of this expedition who was injured in the line of duty."

"Injured?" Woolsey asked in surprise.

"Yes, injured. What happened to him _after_ the event, I believe, was actually done to try and help him. Michael—"

"You're _defending _that creature?"

"Rodney said—"

"I don't see what Doctor McKay has to do with this."

"He said that Michael told him he'd done everything he could for Evan," Keller said, "and you already know my assessment of his condition on arrival."

"But Michael still—"

"Frankly, Mister Woolsey, Michael is not the issue here." Keller raised her voice in frustration. "The issue is that Lorne was just fine, even as he started to regain consciousness, until your marines went charging into his room."

"Hardly _my_ marines, Doctor. Military personnel fall under Colonel Sheppard's jurisdiction," Woolsey answered smugly.

"They were following _your_ orders," Keller corrected him, her tone one of contempt, "the same as they are concerning Teyla. Don't imagine for one second that I don't see what you're doing here."

"I'm doing my job," he insisted.

"No, you're harassing my patients and preventing _me_ from doing mine," she snapped. "He might be conscious, but Major Lorne still needs medical attention and, if you throw him into the brig, he's not going to get that."

"And as the commander of this expedition I have a duty of care for the safety of _all_ the personnel on this base," Woolsey said firmly.

"He's _not_ the enemy," Keller all but shouted in Woolsey's face, "and neither is Teyla!"

"That remains to be seen." Woolsey's clipped voice, and the words he spoke, left Keller off balance, her position of strength fading. "They've both been compromised—"

"Compromised, maybe," Keller admitted, "but with the proper medical care—"

"I'm not convinced that medical care will be effective, Doctor Keller, as I think has been demonstrated in both cases. Major Lorne is still… mutating and Teyla is, at best, emotionally… delicate, but, quite frankly, may just be an out and out liability."

"How dare you!" Jennifer blinked at him in outrage. "After what she's been through, that you can stand there and—"

"In all honesty," Woolsey interrupted, "I rather think that 'what Teyla has been through' – the fact that her child is missing, has begun to sound somewhat like an excuse for her erratic behaviour and dangerous attitude."

"What!" Keller's outrage multiplied under the weight of disbelief.

"When it comes down to it, Teyla's always demonstrated a high degree of sympathy with Michael and—"

"No," Keller snapped, "what Teyla's always demonstrated is a better developed moral compass than you _ever_ stand a chance of understanding."

"I've read the reports, Doctor, including those of Doctor Beckett." Woolsey said with exaggerated patience.

"So have I," Keller said, glaring at him. "I've also read the medical notes that Carson left to his successor – which he used to _inform_ those reports. He mentions Teyla quite a lot, as a matter of fact, and the way she ended up being _bullied_ into participating in that mission, in spite of her, very valid, reservations – reservations which have been upheld over the course of time. But perhaps that's the problem… perhaps that's the threat you're trying to eliminate… the one person who can actually hold your own liability up in front of your face and say, 'you did this'_._"

"Doctor Keller, I think perhaps you are allowing your emotions to get the better of you," Woolsey snapped, looking a little uncomfortable. "No one here is suggesting 'eliminating' anyone. I am merely expressing my concerns over the care of Major Lorne and the involvement of Teyla in future missions until she's of a less volatile… emotional condition."

"Good," Keller nodded, satisfied that she had been successful in manoeuvring Woolsey into a statement that openly returned jurisdiction for the care of Lorne and Teyla to her hands, and that of the medical team. "Then I'll take your concerns under advisement and continue to treat my patients as necessary. Now if you'll excuse me…?"

She gestured toward the microscope, and began to turn back to it even before Woolsey had nodded his assent and turned to leave the infirmary.

**

…_I have not thought on it until today, when we all but met in the cafeteria, and I hate to think that he could be like that, but I rather fear that he is avoiding me for some reason. Perhaps in the morning I will try and seek him out._

With a sigh, Teyla carefully closed the journal in which she had been writing and continued with the final preparations for going to bed. She moaned a little as, turning her head, she stretched the wound on the left hand side of her throat. For a moment she covered it with her hand. The skin burned beneath her touch.

She considered calling Doctor Keller, but what could the doctor do except give her more of the same medicines that she was already taking? Instead she went into the bathroom to wet a clean washcloth with cold water, and held it against her skin. She sighed softly as the coolness soothed the inflammation and for a time leaned against the mirror, repeating the process of wetting and applying the cool washcloth.

Reflected in the mirror she could see the small rocking bed that stood beside her own. He should be there with her, and as much as she wanted to cast blame for the fact that he was not – at Sheppard, at Lorne, at Michael – the one person she blamed the most, was herself.

No matter how hard she had tried, time and again since she had woken there on Atlantis, she had been unable to find the missing memories of her time as Michael's prisoner. She had even tried meditation, as deeply as she dare reach, but still there was nothing. She could not even recall moments that, she had been told by others, had happened. Jennifer had told her that Rodney recalled seeing her aboard Michael's ship… in a laboratory where Michael had been caring for him. She frowned.

"Caring for him," she said softly to herself. Still frowning, she wet the cloth one more time, and turned to sit with her back against the smooth tiles of the wall, looking out into her room, that flickered in the candle light. What if it was something that Michael had done to her that had disrupted her memories of what had happened?

Letting her eyes become unfocussed, she tried to recall the earliest memory she could concerning Michael…

It wasn't fear, not exactly, but the knot in her belly felt like one of John Sheppard's infamous footballs as she walked in to the Atlantis infirmary.

"Doctor Beckett," she began with a sigh to settle herself; banish the unease so that the doctor would not see it. He turned away from the microscope to face her as she continued, "You wanted to see me?"

"Aye, love," Carson stood, and with a gesture, walked with her to where they could both sit. She took her seat, but could not help but feel awkward.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked, frowning in worry for what that might be.

The doctor blinked and then made an apologetic face, "No, no, sorry," he said, "it's nothing like that."

"Then…?" she prompted him to go on.

He sighed before he began, and took the seat opposite her. "What do you know of the mission Colonel Sheppard has planned?"

"Only that he plans for us to… infiltrate a Wraith facility we discovered by tracking the path of several cruisers we believe belong to a single Hive." She tipped her head to one side. That unfortunately familiar feeling of not being entirely trusted resurfaced as Carson Beckett nodded his head to acknowledge what she'd said. "I do not know the reason or the mission beyond that. If there is more—"

"Aye, lass, there is."

"Then you are wiser than I, Doctor Beckett," she said, trying to control the annoyance in her voice.

"Relax, Teyla," he told her, "they didn't say anything to you because I asked them not to."

"Why would you do that?" She frowned. Her alarm grew.

"Because I wanted to ask you myself."

"Ask me what?" The frown deepened, this time confusion lent it fuel.

"I need you to help me find a test subject."

"For your retrovirus?" When he nodded, she continued, "Then it is true that you have continued your work on this?"

"Yes."

She got up from her seat. "Doctor Beckett, I would have thought, after what happened with Colonel Sheppard—"

"What happened to John was an accident, Teyla. There was no way to have predicted it."

"And what makes you so certain you have predicted every eventuality now?"

"What exactly are your objections, Teyla?" Doctor Weir's voice came from behind her. She immediately turned around.

"Just that…" she paused, turning over conflicting questions which she thought she had laid to rest. "I cannot help but question whether we have the right to interfere with the existence of another being in such a way."

"They're Wraith," Elizabeth reminded her, rather unsubtly fixing her with that felt like an almost accusatory stare.

The feeling of being 'press-ganged,' that was beginning to smother her, only increased when, from the doorway, Sheppard added sarcastically, "You remember those guys? Long white hair, bad attitude, tendency toward making a meal out of your people…"

"You need not remind me of the way my people have suffered at the hands of the Wraith," she snapped, "but that does not alter the fact that I have… doubts concerning the morality of this plan."

"Teyla," Doctor Beckett held up his hand to prevent either Doctor Weir or Colonel Sheppard from answering her, "believe it or not, I understand your reservations, and share one or two of them, but – given past history and that even the Ancients couldn't succeed in eliminating the threat they pose – this seems to me as the best way we have to rid the Pegasus galaxy of their threat once and for all."

"And," John added, "without having to spend years fighting a war that would no doubt mean casualties – hundreds," he made a face, "dead… tortured… fed on…"

"And what will happen then, Doctor?" Teyla turned to Elizabeth.

"What do you mean?" Weir asked.

"If your plan succeeds and the Wraith are no longer a threat to the people of this galaxy? What will you do with the people the Wraith become? Where will they live and what will help to keep balance and peace in this galaxy. You?"

"Sounds like she's been talking to Ronon," Sheppard said.

"I have not," she answered in puzzlement.

"They're evil, Teyla," Elizabeth pressed, "You've said so, many times, yourself."

"I know what I have said, Elizabeth, and as evil as we consider them to be because of their actions—"

"They feed on you."

"And fear of them prevents many other aggressive cultures from launching attacks on their fellow humans," Teyla's conscience pulled at her from several different directions at once. Nature abhors a vacuum. Without the Wraith as antagonists… aggressors in the Pegasus galaxy, who would step into their empty space? "What would come of the Genii if the Wraith were not the focus of their military aggression?" she asked.

"That's beside the point." Doctor Weir frowned.

"No, it is not," she argued. "It is a very valid point for consideration."

"Right now, Teyla," Doctor Beckett interrupted again, "as much as I understand what you're saying, I'm afraid it _is_ beside the point. I'm talking about a single test subject."

Teyla sighed. For a very long time she looked between the three others in the room. She felt the weight of their staring gazes, their suspicion almost overwhelming. Still she asked, "What will become of this individual?"

"We'll give him a new identity; integrate him into the community—"

"Lie to him," she almost growled and, hard on the heels of those words, two others fell from her lips, "Trust him?" The following silence spoke volumes. Her concerns seemed well placed. She murmured, "I did not think so."

"Teyla, in time—" Elizabeth began.

"Until the first time something goes amiss," she cut her off, "and then all eyes will turn his way and—"

"Is this about the Wraith, or about you?"

Elizabeth's words, as harsh as they were, came as a slap. Yes, it was true that she did not always feel trusted and that, from time to time, there had been open accusation of betrayal aimed toward her, but her concern for any test subject of Doctor Beckett's retrovirus was only motivated in a genuine concern, based on the knowledge of the personalities of the Atlantis expedition. She also recognised, that by voicing such a question, Doctor Weir had manipulated her into doing as Carson asked, for if she did not, her standing amongst the expedition team could be in question.

"Why do you need me?" she asked Doctor Beckett. "It is not hard to find a Wraith, in a Wraith facility.

"That's true, yes," Beckett admitted, almost with a chuckle, "but in order to make a true test of the retrovirus and its effectiveness, I need something a little more than your average Wraith Grunt."

"What do you mean?" she asked, not at all understanding.

"The subject needs to be—"

_-You need to rest, Teyla- -rest, Teyla- -rest-_

…_Michael…_

_She opened her eyes and, once the spinning and wavering view had steadied before her, found she was standing in the same Athosian roundhouse as before. This time, however, she knew that she was not alone._

_She turned slowly to face the figure that was standing by one of the tables, carefully measuring a colourless powder into a small basin. He added a few drops of liquid from a stoppered bottle nearby. Without looking up he said, "You will never properly heal if you do not rest."_

_"What do you care about my well-being?" she asked him harshly._

_He chuckled then, and looked up at her at last. He was as she remembered him, his short, whitish hair standing spiked above his frowning face; his Wraith features pronounced on an almost human looking face. "You have asked me that once before," he said softly, "And my answer now is as then: I care a great deal."_

Teyla moaned softly, and her brow drew together in a knot of confused denial. With another small sound she turned her head from one side to the other. Her breathing began to quicken.

_He came around the small table between them, carrying the basin in his hands. She felt the urge to back away, but held her ground. As he came closer the harshness in his face softened, and the whiteness in his hair blurred and changed, gaining a little more colour._

_"You already have everything of worth to me," she growled at him as he came to a halt in front of her, "what more do you want from me?"_

_"I told you," he said to her, and gently, barely touching her with the back of his free hand, he tilted her face upward, exposing her neck to his ministrations. "I wish for you to rest and become well."_

Teyla's head tipped backwards, and a trembling began to spread throughout her. She swallowed and her rapid breathing shivered in and out of her body. Her mouth opened as though she were trying to form words.

_With a small spatula he carefully applied the paste he had made over the wounds on her neck. As soon as the substance touched her, the fire in her skin began to subside. The relief was so great she felt dizzy from it, and defying herself she reached out toward him, grasping the leather of his tunic._

_As soon as he was done he set down the bowl and slipped both of his hands beneath her elbows, supporting her still further as what strength she had in her legs began to fail. She tried to breathe his name but no sound would come. She did not need it. His arms came around her, one behind her back, the other beneath her knees as he effortlessly lifted her and began to carry her across the roundhouse toward where the low, pillowed bed awaited._

Her trembling barely subsided, and a deeper sound came from her now, amid her erratic breathing.

"Michael, please…" she moaned softly, "…please…"

_"This is as it must be," he told her as he almost tenderly set her down, propped against the pillows. He pushed aside her hands as she reached for him again, pleading with him. "We must do this, and then you must rest… trust me…" for barely a heartbeat he caught one of her flailing hands, and laid it, beneath his own, against his chest. His heart beat strongly beneath her fingers, even as a tight wave of pain came crashing over her._

She cried out, and pressed her hands against her belly as she woke, gasping for breath. The candles had burned out and pale curtains wafted gently into the room, like ghosts in the light of the New Lantean moons.

She looked around her in complete confusion, and at the tangled bedclothes that lay around her feet. She could not even remember coming to bed. On the tail of that thought she pressed her forearm hard against the corner of her bed frame until she winced from the dull pain of it, and then, with tears gathering behind her eyes, she ran a hand over her face.

Her hand shook, and as the breeze fluttered once again around the room, she realised how chilled she had become and reached for a blanket from among the tangled wreck of her covers. If she were still dreaming she did not have the energy to fight it.

Still struggling against the urge to cry, she turned on her side and curled up beneath the blanket, trying to make sense of what she could recall of the dream…

"Trust," she whispered to herself.

_-trust-_

**

Rodney had just pushed aside the first of two trays as Radek Zelenka found him. It hadn't been hard to guess where he'd find his fellow scientist. It was, after all, breakfast time.

"You wanted to see me, Rodney?" he said as he reached the side of the table.

"Hmmm," McKay nodded, his mouth full of food, and gestured with his empty fork to one of the seats. Radek lowered himself into the seat and waited for McKay to empty his mouth and say, "Yeah, yeah I did. Thanks for coming to find me so early. It means we can get an early start."

"We?" Zelenka queried in surprise.

"Yes. I've been going through some of the data I brought back from M3X-667 and I need another pair of eyes – a second opinion." McKay said.

"And you asked me?" Zelenka said.

"Yes, I asked you," McKay said, irritated, "I may complain about… the added complication of explaining things to you rather than just getting on with that I'm doing, but, truth is, you have a… reasonable grasp of Wraith technology and… I… I'd value your input."

"That hurt," Zelenka observed, enjoying watching McKay squirming and dancing around the issue.

"Look, all right," McKay snapped, realising what the Czech was doing. "What do you want me to say? I need your help."

"All right," Zelenka pushed his spectacles back up on his nose, "You have it. What's the problem?"

"I'm just not certain that I'm reading some of the data correctly. It's not quite the same as what I'm used to." He started to tuck into his second breakfast. "If you like, we can take a look when I'm done eating."

"Rodney McKay, you are _never_ done eating," Zelenka couldn't help but chuckle as Colonel Sheppard invited himself to sit with them.

"Very funny," McKay came right back at him. "You have to properly nourish a brain like mine."

"With bacon and hash browns?" Sheppard said, nodding at his plate.

"It's very important to have a decent breakfast," McKay said, "Right, Radek?"

"Yes, of course, the right kind of nutrition is always very important for stimulating the production of—"

"Colonel Sheppard, do you have a moment?" A shadow fell across their table, and the marine cut Radek's explanation short.

"Saved by the bell," Sheppard sighed, and then looked up at the soldier. "What can I do for you, Warsh, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir, Captain Lewis Warsh." The marine stood beside them looking a little awkward.

"At ease," Sheppard said lazily, "you made it sound like it wasn't particularly a military matter.

"It's rather awkward, Colonel." Warsh said.

"It's all right," Zelenka offered, "Doctor McKay and I were just leaving."

"No, no," Sheppard said, "Lewis, whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of these guys. I'll vouch for them."

Zelenka saw Warsh hesitate for a moment longer before he said, "I thought you'd perhaps want to know that Major Hollick and Mister Woolsey have a meeting with Teyla this morning, and I don't think they're going to be discussing fabric swatches – if you catch my drift, sir."

"Ah, crap!" Sheppard said, pushing his plate away and starting to rise. "All right, Captain, thank you. See if you can find Ronon; have him meet me in the gate room." Sheppard turned to the two scientists and excused himself, hurrying off ahead of Captain Warsh. After a moment, McKay shrugged, and tugged Sheppard's discarded tray toward him.

**

"You asked to see me, Mister Woolsey," Teyla said as she walked into his office. She frowned to see the Major standing beside him, but nodded a polite greeting just the same.

"Yes, Teyla," Woolsey began, gesturing to a chair by his desk, "please sit down."

She sat uneasily, perching on the edge of the chair as though she meant to bolt at any moment.

"Can I get you some coffee?" he offered. "How are you feeling?"

"No, thank you." she said warily, "I am fine."

"And your neck?" he nodded toward the gauze padding that Doctor Keller had applied before she came to the meeting with Woolsey.

"Doctor Keller worries that the wound on the left hand side of my neck will leave a scar." she told him honestly, but shrugged as if it was of little consequence to her.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Woolsey said, and sat back in his chair, making a steeple of his fingers.

Teyla shifted uncomfortably under his regard, and flicked her gaze to the Major, still hovering at his side. "Mister Woolsey," she began after a moment or two, "If this is about what happened on M2H-423, I accept that I behaved inappropriately."

"That's not the reason for our concerns," he answered mildly.

"Then…?" she asked.

"We need to know what happened… when you were with Michael."

"When I was his prisoner," she corrected, and then she sighed, "I have already told you, I remember nothing of the time between when I was taken from Lorne's ca— You do not believe me."

"It is not a case of not believing you," Woolsey said, and he leaned forward, "Put yourself in my position, Teyla."

"No," she started to get up, "Mister Woolsey, you put yourself in _mine._"

"I can't," Woolsey told her, also getting to his feet, "And given some of the things you've said to Colonel Sheppard, I'm not entirely sure that I _should_; that anyone should."

She had turned, and was starting to walk toward the door, but, hearing this, spun around to him.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" she demanded. "What has John said to you?"

"What do you remember?" Woolsey came around the desk toward her and, behind him, Major Hollick shifted to a more watchful position.

"I know nothing. I can tell you _nothing!_" Teyla snapped at them. "Except that he has Nethaiye and every _moment_ you keep your teams standing here doing nothing, is another moment that you keep him in peril!"

"I don't think you believe that," Woolsey accused softly.

"What!"

"I don't think you believe that Michael poses any threat to your son, in spite of what you say to all of us. I believe that something you learned; something that happened when you were with Michael has—"

"How _dare_ you!" she said, angrier than she had ever been since coming to Atlantis. The only thing that stopped her from striking out at him was the knowledge that he was deliberately _trying_ to provoke her, and that was why the soldier was behind him.

"I dare because what I see of your behaviour and the things that you say do not support each other, Teyla." Woolsey said.

"You think I'm _lying?_" Teyla could not believe she was hearing the words. The room around her started to recede into the distance. Her breathing became laboured in her chest and she began to feel panic creeping in to leave her limbs tingling with the ache of it.

"No, I didn't _say_ that," Woolsey held up his hand. "I believe what you say, to a degree. I believe that there is much that you can't remember about what happened, but I do think that there's perhaps something that…" He stopped and sighed, then began again. "Perhaps the memory of it is so frightening that you do not wish to speak of it; dare not, so you hide behind everything else that you truly can't remember. It's not uncommon. Colonel Sheppard said—"

Teyla turned and headed for the door, her short legs carrying her in rapid, striding steps. She had heard more than she could stand. How could these people who claimed to be her friends treat her in this way? She could barely see for the tears that burned in her eyes.

"Where do you think you're going?" Woolsey called after her. "We're not finished here."

She barely stopped in the doorway long enough to growl, "Oh yes we are. We are _more_ than finished." before she continued on her way, virtually running toward her quarters.

**

He rounded the corner with Ronon beside him, and had to sidestep quickly to avoid being mown down by the hurrying Athosian. She did not even look at him, just pushed her way between him and Ronon, and picked up the pace of her steps still further.

"Teyla," he called, "Teyla, wait!"

"Leave me alone," she demanded as she moved on.

He exchanged a worried and puzzled glance with Ronon before the two of them began to go after her. It did not take them long to catch up, and forgetting himself, Sheppard reached out and caught hold of her arm, pulling her to a stop.

"Do not _touch_ me!" she yelped at him and snatched her arm from his grasp, overbalancing and stumbling against the wall.

"Easy… easy," Sheppard said softly, moving toward her, with his arms outstretched.

"What did you tell him, John?" she spat at him.

He blinked in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"I thought you understood," she said, almost snarling at him, "I _trusted_ you!"

"I don't—"

It was mostly the surprise of her back-handed slap across his face that made him stumble back a step. When she stepped forward to follow through with a second blow, born of emotion, he raised his arm to block her. The moment he made the move he knew it was a mistake. She wasn't thinking straight, and he could see she'd perceived his movement as attack. Faster than he would have imagined possible, she lashed out, her fist passing beneath his raised defences to land hard just beneath his ribs, stealing his breath and leaving him open to her following roundhouse that sent him spinning to land, a crumpled, winded heap against the opposite wall.

"Back off!" he managed to order the two marines who came running to his assistance, already raising weapons in her direction as Teyla took a defensive stance, her eyes glazed – unseeing.

"Teyla…" Ronon stepped between her and the marines, and spoke to her softly, "Teyla, it's me… Ronon… it's all right. You're safe…"

Sheppard managed to roll to all fours, and then pressed one hand against his belly as he tried to rise. He waved away the man that stepped forward to help him.

"I'm all right," he said quietly, "just… get outa here, okay?"

"Sir?" The marine looked uncertain.

"Go!" he ordered, before turning to watch Ronon and Teyla.

He was stepping slowly toward her, arms outstretched, talking to her softly – so softly that Sheppard couldn't hear what he was saying, and slowly the glazed expression was beginning to fall away from her face.

"Ronon…" she barely whispered, "John…."

"We're here, Teyla," Ronon answered calmly, taking another step that brought him to within arms reach of her.

"I… I am all right," she said, taking a breath, and squeezing her eyes closed for a moment. When she opened them she was looking at Sheppard. "John… forgive me, I—"

He gave her a weak smile and shook his head. "Just a little love tap," he said, jokingly, "barely felt a thing."

"No, I… I do not know what came over me," she argued.

"I do," Sheppard said, stepping up beside Ronon. "He's about, so tall, balding, has _no_ idea how we do things around here…"

Again she shook her head. "It should not matter who has provoked me. I should not lash out at my friends."

"Ah," he tried to wave it off, "you can buy me a beer later. Come on. Why don't Ronon and I walk you back to your quarters? A little rest, you'll feel right as rain."

She nodded, and he gestured for her to lead the way, but soon fell into step beside her, glancing at Ronon over the top of her head in shared worry.

**

Todd suddenly jerked his head away from his microscope, and glanced toward the door before striding toward where Vega was standing peering through the viewing port. In spite of herself, she shrank against the bulkhead at his approach. It was an uneasy peace she had with the Wraith scientist and Hive commander.

"The Queen comes," he told her urgently. Without waiting for her response he took her somewhat roughly by the arm and pulled her back to her alcove. There, he began to fasten the restraints around her wrists once more.

"Is that really necessary," she asked, pulling against his touch.

"If the Queen suspects that you are still anything other than my test subject and prisoner, both our lives will be in jeopardy," he murmured, "trust me – it is better this way."

Trust him? Vega almost chuckled to herself. About as far as she could throw him, which given his enhanced strength would not be very far. Her wry amusement must have shown on her face because he looked at her in query.

"You really think you need these restraints on me to prove that I'm anything but that?" she asked. He merely rumbled in response and moved away from her, returning to his experiments. Irritated, she added, "You know, unlike you, I don't possess telepathic ability. What is, _hhhrmm_, supposed to mean?"

Todd chuckled, and paused in what he was doing, before he instructed, "Don't speak unless you are addressed, don't look her in the eyes, do not attempt to touch her, and above all—" he broke off, and never did finish the sentence, before the door of the laboratory opened and the Queen stalked in.

Vega did not need his many warnings about this one. She could feel the menace streaming off her like a river, flooding the room with her malevolence… her threat. She quickly looked away and tried to make herself as small as possible in the corner of her alcove and noticed that even Todd lowered his eyes, and gave a slight bow as she entered the room.

The Queen breathed out a long slow hiss, and began to walk around his workbench, trailing her fingertips over the top of it. Her razor tipped digits made a rasping sound over its chitinous surface.

It wasn't long before Vega couldn't resist temptation. The silence in the room, punctuated only by the breathy hissing from both Wraith, pulled at her curiosity until it was a burning itch that turned her eyes to watch.

The Queen was behind him now, and Todd was frozen in place. Smaller than him by several inches, she stood on the toes of her booted feet to lean closer, her cheek almost next to his as though breathing in his scent. Her nostrils flared as she ran her fingers down along his arm, grazing the back of his hand and drawing beads of blood from the lines she left on his skin. Then she began to move away and the inertia that held Todd in place broke.

"My Queen—" he began, and his voice, so suddenly breaking the eerie silence, made Vega jump and almost scramble further back into the corner. The Queen paused in her advance on the cowering woman and turned her head to hiss angrily at Todd. He immediately fell silent again. Whatever he had been trying to warn Vega, she would never know.

Instead she chanted his former instructions in her head as though it was a mantra that would keep the evil at bay. _Don't look at her, don't speak to her, don't touch…_

Suddenly the overwhelming scent of metallic, sweet, yet musky smelling oils pervaded her every sense. Vega had to fight the urge to retch with the intensity of it, and with the sudden press of a touch within her mind. Different than before, when Michael had invaded her consciousness, the Queen's was a twisting, angry curiosity; a sickly, persuasive sweetness pressing over the top of the contempt and hate she so obviously felt for Vega… but burning with an irrepressible need, it left Vega dizzy and gasping for breath within a second and without thinking, she reached out to try and steady herself.

"My Queen," Todd caught Vega's wrist before she could, by accident, lay hand upon the ancient female Wraith. "It is not wise to attempt to join minds with these human creatures; they are not strong enough to maintain consciousness."

He gripped her wrist tightly, digging his fingernails into her flesh beneath his own palm so that it would not be seen. The pain of it roused Vega and blinking, she took a sudden deep breath.

"Then you must teach her," the Queen responded in a sibilant voice, her head tilting, snake-like from one side to the other. "If she is to serve, she must hear my needs without fainting in my presence."

"Of course, My Queen," Todd nodded his head in another miniature bow.

"When she is ready, have her delivered to my Hive," she continued, "along with your research. You will conduct your experiments aboard my ship. It will soon arrive."

"Is that wise?" he asked softly.

"I want your work where I know it will be safe!" She hissed at him again in anger, "Unlike some, I _learn_ from the past."

"Yes, my Queen," he answered with a sigh, perhaps to settle himself, or to recover from some mental slap that Vega imagined the Queen must have given him.

She did not have time to enjoy the thought of it however. The Queen reached for her, closing her fingers enough to prevent most of the blades from cutting into her, as she tilted her chin up to study her. It took everything she was for Vega to keep her eyes downcast, and somehow, she sensed approval from Todd – barely a whisper.

_~good~_

"Pleasant enough," the Queen said finally. Then her voice took on a note of warning as she added, "Have her ready soon."

Todd gave another bow, and did not rise until long after Vega felt the Queen let go of her chin, and her footsteps had receded into silence.

"What the hell!" Vega demanded as soon as Todd let go of her and rose to cross the room and close the door before returning to her side. He held something out to her. "You didn't have to pinch me quite so hard. I _got_ the message the first time."

"Indeed?" he said, once again shaking the small piece of cloth he held in her direction to attract her attention to it. She was still massaging the feeling back into her wrist.

"Yes," she yelped, "You damn near impaled my wrist and— what the hell are you doing?"

She tried to slap at his hand as he reached toward her chin, but he ignored the abuse and, grasping her chin, turned her head to the side, and pressed the square of cloth against her jaw line. She felt the sting at once.

"She cut me! Bitch!" she spat, and then added, "That stings… what did you put on it?"

"She did," he answered as he continued to hold the cloth in place. "It is merely a mild antiseptic. Once it stops bleeding it will ensure that the wound will not become infected."

"Yeah, I know what an antiseptic does, genius." she told him, pushing his hand away and taking control of the swab herself. "If she's so dangerous, why did you lie to her?"

"I lied?" he folded his arms and looked at her in wry amusement.

Trying her best to mimic his tone, she said, "_It is not wise to join minds with these creatures, they cannot maintain consciousness._"

Todd put back his head and laughed, his mirth making him, for just a moment, seem less threatening. The laughter left him almost as quickly as it had come and he said solemnly, "It would be most dangerous if she were ever to discover that you have had associations with the one you call Michael."

"Associations?" she said indignantly, "The bastard was trying to interrogate me, not _sleep _with me." Todd chuckled again and her indignation rose still further, "It's not funny. You have _no _idea what it was like!"

"I knew the Wraith he was," Todd breathed and let out a long slow sigh, "I can only imagine how dangerous he will have become."

Vega blinked in surprise. "You… you knew him? Who was he? How did he—"

Todd blinked, and snapped himself out of whatever introspective thought he had fallen into. He reached out and took the swab from Vega's hand. "No more questions," he said with almost a note of anger in his voice. "Just heed my warning. If you wish to live, do not allow the Queen to learn of your contact with him."

**

"This had better be good, McKay," Sheppard said as he walked in looking tousled and still half asleep. "You might not need your beauty sleep, but some of us—"

"Save it, Sheppard," McKay snapped irritably. "I wouldn't have gotten you out of bed if I didn't think it was something you should know; something everyone _needs_ to know."

"All right, so get on with it," Ronon said, straddling the chair beside the scientist's workstation and leaning on the back of it.

"I'm just waiting on—"

"Doctor McKay," Woolsey said cheerfully as he arrived. Sheppard exchanged a long suffering glance with Ronon. "I trust you've found something?"

"Rodney and I have been tracking the Hive ship that left M3X-667," Zelenka began, "and at the same time have been trying to interpret the data he managed to salvage from the Haradian civilisation."

"Yes, thank you, Radek," Rodney pushed the Czech to one side so that he could get to his computer terminal.

"I thought you couldn't track these things once they went into hyperspace," Woolsey frowned in confusion and came to a halt between Ronon and Rodney, pushing Zelenka still further out.

Sheppard gave Radek a sympathetic look, but the scientist shrugged and simply pushed his glasses further up his nose. Sheppard had to admit to himself that he admired the man's patience.

"That's right, but…" McKay said triumphantly, and typed a rapid sequence of keys on the laptop, to bring a display of the Pegasus galaxy onto the larger monitor on the other side of the bench. "Like all of her descendents, the Mother-Of-All-Hive-Ships has to make regular stops to recover from the effects of the subspace radiation."

"Because Wraith ships are organic in nature," Sheppard drawled lazily. "We know that, McKay, get to the point."

"She made several already, as a matter of fact. Here… here…" McKay brought up a series of flashing points on the main screen, and then with the click of a button connected the dots in a slightly curving trajectory through the galaxy. "As you can see, from the stops she's already made we can predict her most likely destination as being—"

"Here," Zelenka jabbed his finger against the display screen "M6J-272 – we've been tracking Wraith activity in that system for some time. There are a number of Hive ships congregated there."

"Yes, _thank you,_ Radek," Rodney cut in again.

"So in all likelihood the ship is joining up with the fleet – so what?" Ronon growled.

"Ah, but not just _any_ old Wraith fleet," McKay held up his pointing finger, cheerful in his delivery of the news. "I've been going over the telemetry from the Daedalus' records of the battle between the Wraith Hives and Michael's ship. It wasn't something that was immediately obvious because… well, because we weren't looking for it really, but that's beside the point. The point is—"

"The point is," Zelenka interrupted, "that from those records, and going back over previous records we have of encounters with Wraith Hive ships, we noticed that each one has a specific resonance signature."

"Almost like its own… DNA." Rodney continued the little double act, this time coming around the table. "The ships _here_," he pointed his finger at the screen where Radek had first indicated the large Hive ship was most likely heading, "give off the same resonance as the ships in the battle with Michael. Well, at least two of them do."

"And how many ships are we talking about?"

"At this range, it's impossible for our sensors to get an accurate count," Zelenka said apologetically. "We only know that the resonances match because we were specifically looking for that information."

"Give me a rough _estimate_ then." Sheppard insisted.

"Six?" Zelenka shrugged, "Ten maybe…"

"Ten Hive ships?" Sheppard questioned, "And the Mother-of-all-Hives heading straight for them… great!"

"That's not all," Rodney added, Sheppard noted, slightly less cheerfully this time.

"More good news," Sheppard said sarcastically.

McKay came to stand facing Sheppard and the others across the work bench. "Radek and I have been going over the data we recovered from the Haradian settlement."

"You said," Ronon said.

"And from everything we've managed to translate so far, I can tell you that ship is _old._ Older than that," he anticipated, as Sheppard opened his mouth to ask how old. "It's been installed under that mountain for thousands and thousands of years, and the Wraith that come from that Hive have been farming that system for countless generations – human generations that is, because of course the Wraith don't really have generations and even if they did, they'd be—"

"Your point, Doctor?" Woolsey interrupted.

"Right… yes. It's entirely possible that we just stumbled onto one of the oldest Hive ships in existence."

"And presumably one of the most powerful," Woolsey said.

"We don't know that," Sheppard said, shaking his head.

"Actually, we kind of do," Zelenka came to stand beside Rodney. "Some of the texts we managed to translate make reference to certain hierarchies that simply don't exist any more within the Wraith, and to alliances that have been held by the strength of the Queen associated with that Hive."

"Surely not any more, not since the civil war started," Ronon asked, frowning.

"Oh yes… very much so, I'm afraid," Zelenka said, starting to confirm Sheppard's fears. "There are records of transmissions from Hive ships that show deference from their ruling Queens to this one Queen the likes of which we've _never_ even heard of."

"Well, this just keeps on getting better," Sheppard said almost despairingly.

"Indeed it does," Rodney agreed darkly. "It would seem that this particular Wraith faction has farmed that system quite systematically and carefully…"

"Farmed?" Woolsey questioned.

"Well I don't imagine, now that their little Human 'battery' farm has been discovered that they're going to keep on using it now," McKay said, "especially not since the purity of their livestock is no longer guaranteed."

"Purity?" Sheppard's increasing frown was beginning to make his head ache.

"Oh yes," Zelenka said, "The Wraith kept very careful genetic records of all of the people in their system – the Haradians, Ynek's people… all of them. They were moving people around between planets to ensure that they maintained the best of genetic material to breed the strongest, most… nourishing humans."

"And that's why they were so selective with the women they took away?" Woolsey speculated.

"Oh no," Rodney corrected, "Or rather yes… but not entirely."

"Make your mind up, Rodney," Sheppard snapped, trying to wrap his head around everything he was being told.

"The women were selected because they were the fittest and strongest candidates, yes. But they were taken to be… handmaidens—"

"Handmaidens?" Sheppard almost laughed, but the look of seriousness on Rodney's face killed his mirth before it got very far.

"Yes, handmaidens," he said. "Servants for the Queen."

"And this Queen… these Wraith?" Ronon asked, his frown matching that on Sheppard's face. "They've been controlling the humans in this system for how long? Since the war between the Ancients and the Wraith?"

"Longer. Possibly," Rodney said. "With the information we have in the recovered data, the DNA samples we managed to bring back from M3X-667, and… some… data we hold here in our systems, I think we may be looking at some of the oldest, if not _the_ oldest, Wraith still alive." He cleared his throat, "I've asked Doctor Keller to take a look at the DNA, for a second opinion."

"Why?" Woolsey asked, "Does it matter?"

Rodney shrugged a little uncomfortably. "Just… playing a hunch." he said softly.

**

She sighed deeply and turned over to face the other side of the room for the third time in as many minutes. She tried closing her eyes, but the faint sound of the silken drapes brushing against the floor of the room sounded like breathing, and after only a moment she found herself opening her eyes and sitting up to look around the room.

It was empty of course, and with another sigh, Teyla lay back down on her back and stared at the ceiling. She could not close the windows because she was hot and uncomfortable, and nothing she could do, no position she could take, brought her the slightest relief from it. Finally she threw back her covers and sat up, reaching for a robe.

Carefully, making sure she was decently covered, she made her way to the door, and stepped out into the corridor. She had resisted it up until now, because if felt to her like something she should not do, but the discomfort she felt, the fullness of her breasts, now gave her little choice.

She turned the corner heading for the infirmary, where she could get Jennifer to help her, and almost collided with Major Hollick. She put out a hand in front of her to prevent the collision.

"Major Hollick," she said in surprise.

"Teyla," he nodded in greeting, giving her an almost nonchalant and quite pleasant smile afterwards. "Isn't it a little late to be walking around the city?"

Teyla frowned, "I… am uncomfortable," she answered somewhat awkwardly, though she saw no reason why she should have to explain herself to anyone. Perhaps intentionally trying to embarrass the young major she added, "I was going to the infirmary to see if Doctor Keller might be able to help me express some of my milk."

She felt only somewhat vindicated when Major Hollick blushed, "Oh, I er… of course. Don't let me hold you up."

"Thank you," she said coldly, and began to move around him. "Goodnight."

She barely heard the major's response as she walked on. Her mind was replaying the moments of her meeting with him. It was quite obvious to her, after she had given the matter some thought, that the marine had not been walking along the corridor as she had first thought, but had, in fact, been standing at that corner. He had been _guarding_ the corridor, and only one person on the base would have ordered such a blatant assault on her liberty… Richard Woolsey.

**

Vega shrank back against the wall of the Queen's chamber, mirroring the actions of her companion, as the Queen came to her feet, and started down the tiered steps toward the floor of her chamber.

As Todd came into view in the doorway, Vega tugged at the scant clothing she had been given, to try and cover herself more than was possible with such revealing garments. He gave her but a single glance, but the raised eyebrow was enough to make Vega want to push his pointed teeth down his throat. Instead she curled herself up even smaller.

"You sent for me, my Queen," Todd said.

The Queen graced him with a cold expression, her eyes narrowed in a head that was tilted to the side. She reached the space before him and looked him over from the top of his head to the boots on his feet, and Vega could not help but feel the lasciviousness that streamed from the Queen as she did. It faded quickly, however, in the annoyance that was rising.

"I am aware of you presence," she snapped at him.

He gave her a low bow that Vega interpreted as apology. The apology must have been sufficient, since the Queen raised a hand to his shoulder and slowly began to circle him, pausing a moment at his back, before completing the circuit. Then she turned from him and began to ascend her steps again. After only a moment, he followed her.

The more time Vega spent in the Queen's presence, the more she was coming to be able to read her body language, and from the way the Queen moved now, slowly and carefully, she could tell that she and Todd were deep in conversation. She glanced over at him. He was far more guarded, and held himself stiffly, giving nothing away in the way he moved.

"All of my equipment and research is now installed in the laboratory facilities you have been kind enough to provide for me aboard your ship," he said suddenly, as if he realised that Vega was trying to work out the nature of their conversation.

"How _dare_ you!" the Queen's anger exploded through the room, almost suffocating Vega as it washed over her.

Todd stepped backwards, descending three or four steps before the Queen had calmed enough and raised her hand to halt his movement. She let out a last irritated hiss and said, "You have been dealing with humans for too long, it seems."

"Forgive me, my Queen," he said softly, his head still inclined in a bow. "I forgot myself."

Forgot nothing, Vega realised, he was deliberately speaking so that she could hear. She uncurled herself a little, and began to pay more attention to everything she could see, and hear and feel.

"Hmmm," she beckoned him forward again, "since you seem to so enjoy conversation," she made the word sound like the most terrible insult, "you should use you _influence_ with the humans from Atlantis and… persuade them to assist in our… campaign to bring their _Michael_ to a proper justice."

"My Queen?" Todd swallowed just a little.

"I know you have the means," she told him. "Contact those that now occupy Atlantis and propose our alliance." She hissed slowly and physically bristled, "That one has been allowed far too great a liberty. It is time we reminded it of its place."

Vega began to shiver at the tone in her voice, but then frowned in confusion as a certain degree of a feeling almost like a longing washed over her.

**

Teyla smiled at the orderlies on duty in the main infirmary area as she made her way through to where she expected to find Jennifer. The room was empty, and almost completely dark, except for a little illumination from the equipment that remained active even in the doctor's absence.

Sighing a little, she began to look around for the device that the doctor had shown her. She had told her of its use and then had reminded her where the device would be stored, should she need it. It did not take her long to locate the breast pump on a shelf close by a tall medical refrigerator.

As she approached, something in the refrigerator caught her eye. With no warning of its coming, she was flooded with a rush of sensation and memory. Her steps faltered and she suddenly could not catch her breath.

_Fear… no, it was greater than fear. Panic…_

_She stopped struggling against him and looked up at Michael, her expression dissolving into one of sorrow and need. More so in that moment than in any other she felt him… the press of his hand against the small of her back, his fingers wound into her hair and the heat of his body pressed close against hers. Her tiny hands trembled against his chest as the darkness began to close in on her._

…_Michael… …why…_

_She felt the movement of him lowering her to the ground, the feelings in him that mirrored her own, the regret that almost smothered her as she felt it from him… but her hold on consciousness was slipping, her vision fading fast. Through the tears blurring her eyes, she dimly saw him move to retrieve a vial from a case he took from his belt… she could see no more as the dark took hold at last, but she felt him press something cold into her hand, carefully close her fingers around it._

_"You will need this," he said softly._

She remembered little more, only that he moved again, that she had been able to feel him so close that she could feel his breath against the side of her cheek. He had whispered something, but she could not remember the words.

"Michael, what did you do?" she whispered, and squeezed her eyes shut tightly as she fought to remember. Her breath shook as she breathed out and opened her eyes. The vial was all that she could see. It was as though she was mesmerised by it. Without a backward glance, she opened the refrigerator and reached inside to take the vial. The sensation of it, cold within her hand, brought the memory rushing over her again, the same memory. He had given this to her. He had said she would need it. Almost as though she knew what she had to do she closed the refrigerator again, and looked around until she located the syringes and could retrieve one, and a needle to go with it. Then, slipping the three items into her pocket, she turned and headed toward the isolation room, where they were treating Major Lorne.

Her steps only faltered when she saw the two soldiers standing, one each side of the door, and she realised she would not be able to go in to see him, not alone. Before she could turn away and retreat, one of the soldiers spotted her and nodded.

"Anything we can help you with?" he asked.

"I am looking for Doctor Keller," she said automatically, "I had thought she was on duty, but she was not where I expected to find her. She is with the Major?"

The soldier shook his head, "It was a quiet night," he told her, "The doctor said to contact her if anything serious happened. She went to her quarters, I think."

"Then I will not disturb her until morning," Teyla said, "Thank you."

**

Sheppard sighed and picked his head up from the top of the conference table. He was just not fated to get any sleep. He glanced first at Caldwell, who looked as bleary eyes as he felt, and then at Ronon, who looked positively furious at being woken for a second time, and then at Woolsey with the technician sitting beside him. Both of them looked as bright and bushy as squirrel Nutkins on his early morning foraging run.

"I still don't see why this couldn't have waited until morning," Sheppard said, irritated. "If we're going to do anything with Todd, we have to do it on _our_ time and on _our_ terms, and as far as I'm concerned that means getting a good night's sleep so that we can come to this with a clear head."

"We've been here before," Ronon growled, "accepting proposals from the Wraith can only mean trouble, for us… for the people of this galaxy. _When_ will you learn – the Wraith can't be trusted."

"Ordinarily, I'd agree with you, Ronon," Woolsey said, "And wouldn't even entertain the notion of going to a meeting with the Wraith to hear _any_ proposal that they have to put forward, but the fact of the matter is that the area that he suggested would most benefit from his proposal, is one that is currently suffering huge losses because of the conflict between the Wraith and Michael… and going to a discussion costs us very little."

"And if it's a trap?" Ronon asked.

"I was under the impression that Colonel Sheppard had a good relationship with this… Todd." Woolsey said.

"Yeah, and we had an 'understanding' with Michael," Caldwell said sarcastically, "and look how that turned out."

"So, I can take it that you don't agree that we should do this?" Woolsey asked.

"Not without knowing a hell of a lot more than we already do," Sheppard elaborated on Caldwell's answer – a shake of his head in the negative.

"Well, I—"

"Mister Woolsey," Major Hollick appeared in the doorway, "Might I have a word?"

Woolsey looked up and then with a smile, said, "Of course, Major," he nodded to the others, "Excuse me, Gentlemen. Talk among yourselves until I get back."

"Anyone else getting a huge rush of déjà vu right about now?" Sheppard asked as Woolsey left the room.

"I think he's clutching at straws to try and prove himself," Caldwell suggested. "You can't blame him for that, given the way they replaced Colonel Carter."

"I think he doesn't know what he's talking about," Ronon grumbled. "And so far he's led us into nothing but trouble."

"Would you want to risk the Daedalus on this mission?" Sheppard asked Caldwell.

"What I want or don't want is beside the point, Colonel," Caldwell answered, "I have orders to assist the Atlantis Expedition to accomplish its missions, to defend the city and—"

"Oh, come _on, _Steven… just following orders? That's hardly original." Sheppard protested urgently.

"All right," Caldwell leaned forward and said softly, "Off the record, I'm no happier about this that you are. The difference is, I'll follow orders, but do my damnedest to make sure I can do so as safely as possible."

"You think we'll have any choice?" Ronon said, his question rolling around the room between the three of them. "This isn't a meeting to take our opinions and then make a decision based on them. This is a meeting for him to assess just how much we're against him, assert his authority, and then do… goodness knows what while we're away following his suicidal orders."

"I can see _you_ have a low opinion of the man," Caldwell said.

"I know his kind," Ronon answered, "I've _served_ under his kind before. He talks a lot; acts as though he has balls, but put a real life Wraith in front of him and he'd mess himself like a baby!"

"Just playing devil's advocate for a moment," Sheppard cut in, trying to change the subject a little, "Supposing he's right; supposing this proposal of Todd's _does_ help, what then? Shouldn't we at least hear what Todd has to say – from a safe distance of course?"

Neither Ronon nor Caldwell had the chance to answer. Looking very serious, Woolsey came back into the room.

"Sorry, gentlemen," he said as he walked in, "I rather think we're left with little choice. "We've received word from our outposts near the affected areas that either the Wraith or Michael's people are on the move and they're likely to get caught in the firestorm between them. We _have_ to go and listen to what our Wraith friend has in mind."

Caldwell exchanged a glance with Sheppard before he said, "I'll ready the Daedalus."

**

_She walked a darkening, narrowing hallway, most atypical of the hallways on most Wraith facilities. She knew she had taken a wrong turn and should go back – find the others again – but something compelled her, moved her onwards._

_The hallway ended in an open doorway, she could not see inside. Gripping her weapon tightly she stepped within, turning quickly first one way, and then the other to ensure the room was safe. She saw nothing and so cautiously stepped forward, one pace at a time._

_There was someone there, she could sense him, but her eyes told her that the room was empty._

_"I know that you are here," she said coldly, "show yourself – coward."_

_"I don't know whether to congratulate you on finding my laboratory, or to feed on you to ensure your silence."_

_The voice came from right behind her, and she froze._

_"Put down the weapon," he said._

_"No."_

_"You have no need of it."_

_-No need of it- -no need- -need-_

"Michael…" she gasped, turning her head and moaning softly. Her skin prickled with the sensation of his presence, his touch.

_"You are not like the others," he said. His fingers travelled from her shoulders, down the length of her arms to find her hands, to guide her suddenly quiescent fingers into relinquishing their hold on the P90 they contained. "There. Much better," he said softly, as the weapon clattered to the floor of the chamber._

_"Let go of me!" she demanded, pulling against where his hands still covered hers._

_"I will admit, when first I sensed you, I was surprised to discover than any of your kind still lived. I thought you had all been eradicated, either by my own kind or by yours. Either way, it is… interesting to see the result of it all made flesh."_

_"Take your hands off me," she snarled._

_"Make me."_

_-Make me- -make me- - make me-_

"Don't…" the breath came from her in a rush and she snatched another, "…Please… Michael, I want…"

She gripped the blanket beside her tightly in one hand, and the hand resting beside her face closed into a fist. She moaned again and her breathing quickened until she virtually trembled with each breath.

_Suddenly she spun away from him, twisting his hand and pulling him closer again before she shifted her balance and brought her knee upward toward his middle. He let one knee bend beneath him, allowing him to turn and take the blow against his hip, at the same time releasing the hand he still held, and quickly bringing his arm across to defend against the blow she aimed at him with the other._

_She used the momentum of the blocked attack to all but somersault over his left shoulder; to put herself behind him. He continued his own descent, and turned quickly on one knee, his long white hair flying behind him as he did._

_This time _he_ came at _her_, and he was pulling no punches. His hands were a blur that she fought to keep up with; hurried to block the incoming blows as she was forced to give ground._

_"Good," he murmured, hardly out of breath, as hers came tremulously, her body fighting fatigue. Step by step he forced her toward the bulkhead wall until she had nowhere left to go, until her arms burned with the effort of holding back his blows… her eyes darting to find an opening, to make an attack of her own. He encouraged her, "Yes…"_

_She lashed out suddenly, sensing an opening – but it was a trick of her tired mind – and he easily caught her wrist, pressed her against the wall with the whole of him. His fingers grazed her wrist, and then passed over her palm to entwine with her own and hold her in place. His right hand pressed against her chest._

_Her breathing came in startled, terrified snatches, but all the same there was something primal, almost needful in the sensations travelling through her in that moment._

_"There are two possibilities from this point," he told her, capturing her eyes with his as he tilted his head, continuing in a whisper, "What are we…to do?"_

Teyla moaned again, shifting her legs against each other beneath the soft blankets as though she sought to free herself from some imaginary tangle of them. The snatches of breath she took were so rapid, so shallow, that it seemed as though she had just run some great distance.

His name fell from her again, and she bit her trembling lower lip. She turned her head, pleading with him, "Please, I… don't…"

One of her hands flailed out as though fending off some contact, or perhaps reaching for something… someone… reaching as the dream shifted… the slightest change…

_She was back in the roundhouse… dream or memory, she was no longer sure and in that moment no longer cared. The burning need for contact sated at the hands of her would be lover… their playful game of rough and tumble ended against the pillows of his bed. She laughed softly as he held her down._

_"Surrender," he said quietly, sensually, almost a whisper._

_"Never," she chuckled, and gasped softly as he slipped his left hand into hers, entwining their fingers against the pillows. His right hand that held her playfully, pressed against her chest._

_A knot of fearful excitement twitched inside of her, quickening her breathing, filling her with the scent of him, clean and musk together as he pressed closer to her. She closed her eyes._

_"What are we," he took a breath, "to do?"_

_She reached up with her free hand, ran her fingers into his hair and guided his lips to meet with hers. Her lips parted as he deepened the kiss and she moaned softly at the bittersweet taste of him. Not at all as she remembered. Not the man in her memory. Not Kanaan._

_-I was the one in your visions-_

_She moaned, and opened her eyes at the touch of his mind in hers, meeting the desire she saw in his golden orbs with her own burning need._

…_Michael…_

_He knew… he had seen what her answer would have been on that day… and he had said he had come to remember. The thought of it brought another moan from her lips, still wet from the kiss… longing for his touch… the deeply buried need of it surfacing, rushing through her blood and almost drowning her in it._

She took a breath that shuddered almost as a sob through her trembling body; she could feel the weight of him over her, the strength in him, and the fierce need in him that matched her own. She could feel his touch as it lingered over her, travelling toward where she most needed to feel the reverence of it.

Moaning, she shifted again, almost arching her back as though to catch the phantom touch from her dream… her breathing quickened still more, her heart a betrayal throbbing in her chest as she suddenly called out for him, a needful, breathless cry.

"Michael… Michael!"

Her awakening was as sudden as had been her release. She sat up, the bedclothes falling in a heap around her waist, his name still falling from her lips, a whisper now, "Michael…"

Just as suddenly her room was full of light and sound.


	3. Act 3

**Act 3**

Teyla squinted against the sudden flood of light, momentarily confused, as the four men burst in, completely invading her privacy.

"Clear!" One of the marines spun to the left and checked that side of the room, before going through into the bathroom to check there too.

A second marine circled rightward, making his way around to the partly open balcony doorway, and checking outside. He too called out, "Clear!" before both men began a perfunctory search of the room.

Teyla's heart pounded, and she still trembled with the fading edge of the dream and her awakening from it, but she was aware enough to realise what was going on.

"What… what are you—?" she stammered and grabbed the covers, irrationally pulling them up over her sleeping clothes. "Get out! Get out of here, now!"

She glared at Woolsey as he, followed by Hollick, came further into the room. Teyla rose from the bed, becoming more herself. She was fuelled by her anger, though partly out of modesty still held one of the blankets around her.

"How dare you!" she snarled.

"Where is it, Teyla?" Woolsey answered her with a question.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded angrily.

"Major Hollick's men in the infirmary reported you left with something in your hands. Where is it?" he said.

Frowning, Teyla jerked her head to indicate the side of the room. On a table there stood the breast pump that she had collected on her departure from the infirmary. "That is what your men saw," she spat at Hollick, at the same time she began to wind her fingers into the blanket, "I told you before of the reason for my visit to the infirmary." Then, before either man could answer, she added coldly, "Or perhaps you would like to watch me use it!"

To his credit, Hollick looked down, a little ashamed, but Woolsey persisted, saying, "You have to appreciate our position, Teyla. Your behaviour, the things you've said… that you were calling for Michael in your sleep… you have to admit, it's hard not to believe that you've been compromised."

"He has m—"

"—your son, yes… so you keep saying," Woolsey held up his hand to stop her from saying anything, "but frankly, right now, that's not very comforting. In fact, I can see how it could be a lever he could use against you to make—"

The accusation that he only part way completed was all Teyla needed to push her from anger into fury. She had been winding the blanket in her agitation almost into the knotted tangle of a rope… and, as the only thing she had to hand, she used it as a weapon, swinging it out toward Woolsey's legs and pulling hard to topple him backwards. She did not wait for him to hit the floor before she leaped toward him. She had no clear plan, indeed was not thinking at all. Driven by the pure folly of her anger she reached to snatch the knife from the belt of the nearest marine; to descend on the winded and surprised Woolsey.

She never reached him. Though she moved with an almost inhuman speed, her agitation, her anger, left her vulnerable. The two marines flanking Woolsey caught her by the arms and threw her backwards onto her bed, both levelling their weapons, aimed at her head, toward her as they let go of her. She froze.

"You lied to me!" she growled, turning her head to bring Woolsey into view as Hollick helped him to his feet. "You care nothing for my comfort; my health, and you never intended for me to have freedom in the city. You have had me under surveillance the entire time!"

"You have been under surveillance, yes. Teyla, please—" Woolsey held up a hand to try and stop her from speaking, but she refused to be quieted.

"Do not try to placate me. It will not work," she snapped and reached up to slap at the barrel of the weapon that was closest to her face, to push it away. The marine tensed his finger on the trigger.

"All right," Hollick held up his hand, and waved a slight signal to the marines. Slowly they took a step back, though they relaxed only slightly. "Let's just… take it easy, hmm?"

"At least listen to our position," Woolsey said to Teyla, his voice businesslike.

"Very well," she said and leaned up on her elbows, then sat up, no longer held in place by the threat of the weapons. "Explain… but do not take me for a fool."

Woolsey nodded. "All right," he said, quietly. "Since your return to Atlantis, you have been evasive, belligerent; your conduct on the mission you undertook with Colonel Sheppard was, frankly, reckless."

Teyla looked away and sighed heavily. For a moment she covered her face with her hands and massaged her tired temples.

"You have been paranoid; been making accusations against people that you know are your friends. You even attacked Colonel Sheppard in the hallway just yesterday."

"We understand that this is difficult for you," Major Hollick took a step forwards, speaking more gently than Woolsey, though his words were no less hurtful. "And that, after everything you've been through, it's hard to trust people around you and be yourself, but what you've been doing, Teyla, we believe is more than just the effects of post traumatic stress – and we already had Doctor Keller test for the only other possibility that makes sense."

Teyla got to her feet, straightening up and beginning to pace as she realised what they were saying. She had learned about Carson's clone from Doctor Keller. It agitated her still further to think that they could believe that this was what had happened to her as well.

"A clone? Me?"

"No." Hollick shook his head. "As I said, Doctor Keller tested that possibility as soon as Colonel Sheppard and the others found you. You check out. You really are who you think you are, but," he looked at Woolsey, who nodded for him to continue, "when we debriefed Doctor McKay, he remembers seeing you in Michael's laboratory; remembers you talking openly with Michael with no guards, no restraints, nothing."

"So what are you saying?" Teyla paused in her pacing to turn and regard the two men. "That… I am under some kind of… control by Michael… because of something he did to me, and that is why you come bursting into my quarters in the middle of the night? You think that gives you the right to do this to me?"

"Look, Michael has your son." Hollick said, "I'm a father. I know I'd do anything to save my child. Any parent would."

"You do not know me at all." Teyla pointed at him, her face set in a sneer. "My son? To harm him would only make an enemy of me!"

"I'm sorry, Teyla," Woolsey said. "There are other reasons why we have to do this."

"Why!" she demanded angrily, and took a step toward Woolsey. The marines flanking him once again raised their weapons and she stopped cold.

"Because we're concerned that, in spite of repeated opportunities to tell us what happened, you still refuse to answer any of our questions," Woolsey said.

"The whole point of our attempts to debrief you is to try and find a way to stop Michael," Hollick said, "and he has to be stopped. We believe that you're deliberately stalling in order to protect him – whether consciously or not – and that makes you a danger to us and to yourself. So until you can be properly debriefed, we have no choice but to place you under house arrest. It's for your own good, Teyla."

Teyla clenched her fists at her side, and almost growled softly as she looked at the men in contempt.

"You asked us for the truth." Hollick shrugged almost apologetically.

**

Sheppard blinked to make his eyes adjust to the change in light, and then tightened his grip on his P90 as his surroundings came into focus. The terrain around them was a rocky, barren wasteland. It felt cold, wet and thoroughly inhospitable. The air was damp and instantly soaked through his clothes to cling to him, leechlike and uncomfortable.

"What is it with these guys and dark, damp places?" he murmured irritably.

It was meant to be a rhetorical question, but McKay answered cheerlessly, "Well, considering what they evolved from, it does make a strange kind of sense."

"Aren't you full of wit and wisdom today?" Sheppard thought he'd made the sarcasm in his voice obvious enough, but maybe it was true about intellectual people – they more often than not missed the obvious.

"I usually am, yes," McKay answered.

Sheppard sighed and shook his head at the scientist. Then he signalled to the rest of the marines. They were fortunate enough to have arrived at the coordinates designated for the meeting ahead of the Wraith. Daedalus had arrived in orbit and had taken a thorough scan of the area before transporting Sheppard and the others to the surface. They had found no trace of the Wraith, but that didn't mean there were no other dangers that the planet could subject them to, and Sheppard was anxious to get back to Atlantis in one piece.

"Fan out," he said, "let's take a look around; secure the area."

"That won't be necessary," Todd's rumbling, breathy voice came from the darkness behind them. "The area is already quite secure."

Ronon was the first to react. He swung round, his weapon clearing its holster and charging musically almost before the sound of Todd's voice had given way to silence. Sheppard and the marines were not too slow in following his example.

"How did you get here?" Sheppard demanded.

"The same way as you, I would imagine," Todd answered. He looked a little confused at the question. "By cruiser, and then we were beamed down to the planet by Dart materialisers."

"We scanned the system," Sheppard said, as if he was protesting the unfairness of Todd's prior arrival. "There was no one here."

"My warriors and I arrived several hours ago to ensure we were able to secure the area for our meeting," Todd said. "I took the precaution of keeping my ship's presence masked by the gravitational eddies between this planet and its closest moon." The Wraith scientist glanced in the direction of the seemingly massive, green hued orb that dominated the sky just above the horizon. Then he added almost in amused companionship, "After all, I wouldn't want our presence to have been detected by rival Hives and our meeting interrupted, now would I?"

"I guess not."

"Additionally, I wanted to ensure the location was safe from dangers for you and your men," Todd continued. "I know what lurks in the shadows of this world, Colonel Sheppard, and I would hate for any of you to fall foul of those dangers."

"Hey," Sheppard said indignantly, "you said a neutral planet."

"And indeed it is," Todd's voice rolled towards him, as chilling as the damp air. "The Wraith abandoned this place millennia ago."

"That's not the point," Ronon grumbled, tightening both his grip on his weapon and his aim on Todd.

"The point is," Todd said, "that we are all here. Why don't we all lower our weapons and begin this meeting?" He made a gesture to suggest that Sheppard and his men should do so first.

"I don't think so," Sheppard said.

"Oh, but I do," Todd purred, and from behind the Wraith, many more warriors stepped out of the shadows.

"Erm… guys?" Rodney tugged at the back of Sheppard's vest. When Sheppard turned, he saw what had the other man so worried. As they had been talking, several more Wraith had appeared from the rocky darkness and now they were completely surrounded.

"All right," he said, dragging out the words a little, "why don't we all… lower our weapons and start this meeting." He signalled to the marines and slowly took his hands off his own weapon, leaving it hanging across his chest by the strap. Only the big Satedan made no move to stand down. "Ronon," he said, "lower your weapon."

Growling, Ronon finally complied, though he did not move his hand very far away from his gun.

"Good," Todd crooned and spread his hands a little. Around them the Wraith also lowered their stunners. "Now we can talk."

"What do you want?" Sheppard took a wary step closer to the Wraith commander.

"Want?" Todd questioned, sounding surprised and perhaps slightly offended. "As I said, I have a proposal for you."

"I'm listening."

"It has come to my attention that you and I…" Todd gave a slight shrug. "Your people and mine… share much the same goals."

"We do?" Sheppard asked, adding sarcastically, "Must have missed the memo on that one."

"Come now, Colonel," Todd pressed, "It cannot have escaped your notice that we were both recently engaged in battle against a common enemy."

"Michael?" McKay said, only in part a question.

"Look, what is this, the enemy of my enemy is my friend?" Sheppard snapped, tiring of the politics.

"Hardly," Todd rumbled, "but we have used each other… when the need has arisen; have exchanged… information and we both seek the former Wraith that you call Michael."

"Former Wraith," Rodney let out a little chuckle. "Good one. Very reminiscent of The Artist Formerly Known as Prince." His mirth faded quickly as he added, "So both our people were out there trying to blow the crap out of Michael and his people – which, as a matter of fact, I should thank you for so very little – almost got me killed—"

"So we were all after Michael, so what? He had some of our people. We were trying to get them back," Sheppard interrupted McKay's tirade, watching Todd's face carefully.

"I think you are not being entirely honest with me, Colonel Sheppard," Todd said softly. "Yes, I am aware that you, Teyla wasn't it, was his captive? You told me as much when we last met, but our intelligence suggests that she has been returned to you, and yet you still seek him – quite rigorously so."

"What if we do?" Ronon grumbled out the question and Sheppard glanced at the impatient expression on his face.

"Then I propose we… pool our resources in order to find him," Todd said.

"An alliance?" Ronon folded his arms.

"Yes."

"With you?"

"Yes."

"No offence," Sheppard cut in, moving a step closer and putting himself between Ronon and Todd before Ronon could act on the expression of distaste he saw on the Satedan's face and punch the Wraith Commander in the mouth for the audacity of the suggestion, "but we don't exactly have warm and fuzzy memories of the last time we made an alliance with you people."

"You are not entirely innocent of… deceiving those with whom you have allied, John Sheppard," Todd said, quietly breathing out a sigh.

"Careful," Sheppard said, "you're letting your sympathies show."

"No!" Todd suddenly all but roared. "I have no sympathies with that one!"

The marines, and Ronon, tightened their grip on their weapons at the change in tone. As they did, so too did the Wraith. Realising the inherent danger in the moment Sheppard raised a hand.

"All right, all right," he said, almost apologetically, "we're not entirely blameless. What are you—?"

He broke off as a sudden movement among the shadows of the rocks caught his attention. With no more warning, the shadow came flying at him. Before even the ever alert Satedan could react, Todd's hand shot out and snatched the danger from the air beside Sheppard's head. He did not hold it for long, but tossed it to a space and, grabbing the nearest weapon from one of his warriors, fired on the creature before it could scuttle into position for a second attack.

As soon as Todd laid a hand on the weapon, Ronon snatched his own from its holster and aimed it at the Wraith's head. Following the Satedan's lead the marines, also, raised their weapons. Sheppard feared the situation was rapidly degenerating. It could be deadly if anyone on either side opened fire.

"Easy," he called out.

"Hold," Todd commanded at the same moment.

"Let's not get over excited," Sheppard continued. "He was only trying to help."

"Indeed," Todd breathed and walked the few steps to where the remains of the creature lay smoking on the ground. He picked it up and brought it back to Sheppard. "It would serve none of us any good were I to have left it to feed on you."

Sheppard couldn't help but shiver as he looked at the mangled ruins of the Iratus bug.

"After all," Todd added dryly, "It would mean so much less to sustain _me._"

Sheppard gave him a sour look.

Todd chuckled slightly at his expression and then said in a louder, more business like manner, "An alliance. My Hive, and the Hives under my control, will join our efforts with yours in locating the renegade and destroying his outposts and facilities. The only condition I impose is that, when we find him, _we_ shall be the ones to deal with him."

"Deal with him?" Sheppard questioned. "Can't see as there would be much left to deal _with_ once we catch up to him."

"Ah yes, Sheppard," Todd said firmly. "He must be taken alive."

**

"We searched, Sir," Hollick's voice travelled toward them as Sheppard, McKay and Ronon approached Woolsey's office. "Three times, and there's nothing there."

"Is it possible that your men made a mistake?" Woolsey asked. The frown that must have been on his face was evident in his voice.

"No, Sir," Hollick said adamantly.

"Anything we can help you with," Sheppard said lazily as he and the others burst into the room unannounced. He took in the expressions on the two men's faces in a glance. Both were puzzled, concerned, perhaps even a little irritated. Woolsey was the first to school his face into a more neutral expression.

"Colonel Sheppard," he said almost cheerfully. "How was your meeting?"

"Oh, you know," Sheppard said with a shrug. He was trying to hide his growing disquiet at being so blatantly excluded from meetings and ignored when he asked reasonable questions. "The usual – cold, damp meeting place, Wraith, Iratus bugs trying to feed on me… all in a day's work. You lose something, Major?"

"Sir?" Hollick asked, quite obviously attempting, once again, to side-step the question.

"You were just saying—"

"Aside from all of that, Colonel Sheppard," Woolsey interrupted, "how was your meeting with Todd? What did he want?"

Sheppard fixed his eyes on the major, trying to stare him down, but he answered Woolsey's question, none-the-less. "An alliance – our people and his – working together to track down Michael, destroy his facilities and to deliver him into the hands of his former brothers."

"Is that wise, Colonel?" Hollick asked, finally looking away and glancing at Woolsey as if he were worried that he would be reprimanded for cutting in on their conversation.

"It's a reasonable question, Sheppard," Woolsey said as Sheppard frowned. "You'll no doubt remember what happened on the previous occasions an attempt has been made to ally with the Wraith."

"I haven't forgotten – how could I. That's part of what started this whole mess in the first place." Sheppard snapped. "But, as cautious as I am to accept any kind of deal with the Wraith, all of the arrangements we've had with Todd in the past have pretty much worked out. If anyone can help us find Michael it would be him."

"You're saying you _support_ this alliance?" Hollick asked, and there was a good degree of scepticism in his voice.

"I'm saying I don't necessarily _oppose_ it," Sheppard corrected, "there's a big difference."

"Another one obfuscating," Hollick muttered, starting to turn away.

"What's that supposed to mean, soldier?" Sheppard's frown was deeper than ever at the attitude of his subordinate officer.

"I'm just tired of all this double talk, Sir," Hollick, still a marine after all, answered his superior officer.

"I think we all need to take a step back," Woolsey said, clearly trying to divert the conversation, "try and make a considered decision as to what we'll do about Todd's proposal."

Sheppard wasn't about to let himself get diverted, not this time. "Double talk?" he asked.

"Why won't anyone around here give a straight answer?" Hollick demanded. "These are Wraith, and you propose we deal with them to get to Michael. You keep on saying, they can't be trusted and yet here you are suggesting we do… whichever way you look at it, that's what you just said. Well maybe that's what he _wants_ you to do… Sir," Hollick answered, looking and sounding more than a little unsettled. "Maybe that was his plan all along. Maybe you're acting this way because he reverse fed on you a—"

"You better be damn careful of the next words out of your mouth, Major Hollick," Sheppard's mood darkened to near midnight as he stepped up nose to nose with the other man. "What the hell has gotten into you?"

"I'm just concerned," Hollick did not back down, "and after what happened with Teyla – after what _I_ saw—"

"What do you mean, 'after what happened with Teyla?' What's going on?" Ronon stepped closer, right up beside Sheppard, to join him in menacing the smaller man.

Beside the three of them, McKay squeaked at Woolsey expectantly, gesturing with open palms toward the storm that was brewing. After only another moment, Woolsey cleared his throat.

"Gentlemen," he said with a quiet authority, and when Sheppard glanced at him he was looking at them with a raised eyebrow, clearly waiting for them to step away from each other. "I'm afraid there's been a… development where Teyla is concerned. I now have very little doubt."

"About what?" Sheppard demanded, turning away from the marine and boring into Woolsey with an expression of deep displeasure.

"I'm afraid Teyla's been compromised," Woolsey said.

"Where is she?" Ronon demanded, and before Sheppard could stop him – not that he was sure that he would have, even if he could – he shot out a hand to grab Woolsey by the front of his uniform jacket and haul him closer. "What have you done to her?"

It was Hollick that answered, as Woolsey attempted to free himself, ineffectively, from the big Satedan's grip. "She's been placed under house arrest until she can be properly debriefed."

As soon as Hollick told them, Ronon let go of Woolsey and turned angrily, leaving the room seconds after. Woolsey fell against the table, a little out of breath, but trying to regain his dignity as he tugged his clothing back into place.

"I think maybe you better start at the beginning," Sheppard said, his own quiet anger bubbling under the surface of his words, "and tell me what the hell is going on here."

**

Vega trembled slightly from the cold as much as from her fear of angering the Queen. Even though her back was turned, she heard and recognised his footsteps before the elder Wraith waved her away, and rose from her throne, to descend the steps toward Todd.

Vega watched, in a kind of terrible fascination, the way the Queen stalked around him. It was predatory and sexual, though she doubted that the Wraith female had any of those kinds of desires for her Commander. Vega couldn't help but wonder if Todd was in any way fooled; seduced by her advances.

"My Queen," he said with a little bow. "I have met with them as you commanded. Colonel Sheppard of Atlantis has returned to his superiors to lay the proposal before them."

"And he is willing?" she hissed, for once making no protest at his use of spoken language.

"I believe he is agreeable, yes," Todd crooned. "He has only to convince the others of the advantage that our alliance could bring. I am confident in his ability to do so."

Through the connection that the Queen kept with her, the hold she had on her mind, Vega felt a momentary flush of elation. It was so powerful that she could not help but take in a breath at the sensations it sent flushing through her. She felt as though every nerve in her body had responded to that brief touch and she trembled in the wake of it and suddenly clutched at the wall beside her.

_=Soon…=_

The word, or rather the idea of the word, echoed around in Vega's mind. The elation she felt turned to hunger; a jealous desire that was muted only slightly by doubt; worry that spiralled to the surface and was finally given form in the words that the Queen spoke.

"And your work?" she said, almost as though she were trying to tease the Wraith commander before her.

"It progresses," he said, his breathy voice, a reassuring counter-pressure from his mind somehow soothing the burning that still lingered in Vega's nerves. "Though I have, as yet, been unable to prevent the reversion. I believe, however, that I have isolated the gene cluster responsible. It is only a matter of time."

"See to it that you _do_," the Queen said, and all of the lightness had flown from her voice, to be replaced by the deadly cold and sibilant hiss with which Vega associated her. It was not only her voice that had turned murderous. The warning blackness of her anger once again filled the chamber, and Vega knew that it was meant as a warning to Todd. In the sudden clarity of that thought she began to try and work out why the Queen should need to threaten him; to work out what it was he tried to do with the hybrid prisoners that were now his test subjects. What ultimately did the Queen expect him to do?

**

She barely looked at him as he rushed into her room, virtually lifting the marines aside who had been set to guard her quarters.

"Teyla?" he said softly, the questioning tone meant as an invitation for her to tell him what was on her mind. She ignored him, looking away again. "I just got back. I'm sorry I wasn't here to look out for you, but I promise I won't let it ha—"

"Did they send you here so that you could make me talk to you?" She finally asked. The cold distrust in her voice cut into him as though she had stuck a knife into his gut, even though he _could_ understand why she would think that and, in her position, he would probably have thought the same thing. His hesitation in answering her made her look up again. She fixed him with an intense glare. "Colonel Sheppard told me what happened when you came to find me, but I cannot help wondering why you bothered – given the treatment I have received since awakening. I do not feel that I can trust _anyone_ as a friend."

Ronon began to walk toward where she sat, despondent, on the end of her bed.

"You can trust me, Teyla, you know you can," he answered.

"You expect me to just _believe_ that?" she snarled and looked away again.

"I understand that you may not believe it, but just _think_, Teyla, I've done nothing to earn your suspicion. I _know_ you're telling the truth."

"Really?" she asked sarcastically, "Because from where I sit, it is highly convenient that you should return at this time; to speak with me when I have evidently _refused_ to speak to the others."

She turned her head to stare at him once more. He could not argue with her, because he could see the logic of her argument. Whatever had happened here while he and John were at the meeting with the Wraith had more than shaken her, and now, here was he, the one person who had been able to come anywhere close to her since they had brought her back to Atlantis, showing up in her quarters – and yes, he wanted her to talk to him, but only because he was sure that _her _accounting of the events would be more truthful than he would ever hear from Woolsey or the marines.

"So tell me," she said when he remained silent, "what is it that they wish to hear so that I may give them the lies they want, and have done with it?"

"They're wrong, Teyla," he said at last, "They've used you, _and_ your people; show _no_ respect, and as for Woolsey, he doesn't know how things work in this galaxy."

"And that is an excuse for this?" her voice rose for the first time into a semblance of the Teyla he knew as she raised her hands to gesture around them.

"No," he said, "but it's a reason."

"So what they have done to me – you think it is justified?"

Again he could not answer her. Right – no. Justified, if you looked at things from their perspective, perhaps it was. She looked away again, obviously taking his silence to mean he agreed with what they had done. Frustrated with his own inability to break through her reticent anger and reach the reasoning woman he knew and loved, he crossed the rest of the way to kneel down in front of her and take her hands in his. She did not pull away.

"Teyla, listen to me," he said softly, looking up into her down turned face, "putting you under arrest like this, it's ridiculous. I don't know exactly what's going on, I don't _need_ to know, because I know _you._ Yes, all right, maybe you and I haven't always had the same opinions about the whole sorry mess that made Michael what he is today – and maybe you're the better person because you can see the good in him, or find it in yourself to show compassion that none of the rest of us can – but that doesn't make you a criminal."

"Ronon," Teyla's sigh was one of frightened relief as she freed her hands from his and reached for him. He moved to sit beside her and she leaned into his offered embrace and held on to him tightly, "I'm afraid."

"I know you are," he whispered, smoothing her hair down and fitting her beneath his chin. "To lose a whole chunk of your life like that, it's got to be terrifying."

She shook her head against his chest. "What is happening to me?" she asked.

"We'll get you through this," he promised, "and if they don't want you here on Atlantis, maybe they'll let you go and stay with your people. Anything has to be better than this."

Mutely she nodded. He felt her sigh again, and settle against him even more as though the fortress of his arms could protect her from all the crazy things that were happening to her. He sighed too – only wishing that he could.

**

"What do you mean, she was _calling_ for him?" Sheppard had heard just about all he could stand of the insinuations and accusations that Woolsey was levelling at Teyla, but this last comment, and the thinly veiled smirk on Major Hollick's face, was almost enough to push him from anger into disbelief.

"See for yourself," Woolsey invited, gesturing to one of the screens at the side of his office.

"You _bugged_ her quarters?" Sheppard demanded, the disbelief rapidly turning back to anger.

"Of course he bugged her quarters," McKay began to ramble almost sorrowfully, "and it's my fault. If I hadn't told them I saw her walking around aboard Michael's cruiser – I should have known they'd take it out of context – it wouldn't have happened. Oh," he grumbled at himself, "Rodney McKay, when will you learn to keep your mouth _shut_."

"Shut up, Rodney," Sheppard snapped, and then to Woolsey, added, "This is a gross invasion of privacy, you know that, right?"

"When Teyla's behaviour became erratic, I contacted the IOA to report what was going on. They ordered that she be placed under surveillance," he answered.

Sheppard said sarcastically, "Even _you_ could come up with something more original than that."

"It happens to be the truth," Woolsey said.

"But in her _quarters_?" Sheppard questioned again, "that's not surveillance, that's… that's… Well, I don't know what it is, but it's certainly not decent."

"Stalking," Rodney suggested.

Woolsey sighed, "Just look at the tape, Colonel, and _then_ tell me that you think I'm wrong."

_Teyla gasped and turned her head against her pillow, letting out a soft moan._

_"Don't…" she gasped, and then let out a shuddering, sudden breath. Snatching another, she moaned, "…Please… Michael, I want…"_

_She gripped the blanket beside her tightly in one hand, and the other hand, resting beside her face, closed into a fist. She moaned again and her breathing quickened until she was almost visibly trembling with each breath._

Even though he wanted to look away, some terrible fascination held Sheppard immobile.

_Teyla moaned again and the blankets over her moved as though she was moving beneath them. It looked like she was twisting, trying to free herself from some imaginary peril. The snatches of breath she took were rapid and shallow. Laboured as though she were running – or in pain…_

_She called out Michael's name again and bit her trembling lower lip, turning her head and pleading with him, "Please, I… don't…"_

_One of her hands flailed out as though fending off some contact, or perhaps reaching for something and she took a breath that shuddered – was almost a sob – through her trembling body. The moans she was making became a cry and she almost arched her back as the wordless sound she made became a breathless cry of her captor's name. _

_"Michael… Michael!"_

_She sat up, the bedclothes falling in a heap around her waist—_

"All right, all right!" Sheppard couldn't stand to watch any longer. She was clearly troubled, remembering some kind of pain… something he did to her. "So she cried out his name," he said, and glanced at the door as it opened to admit Ronon. The Satedan had a face like thunder. "Big deal," Sheppard continued. "Seems obvious to me she was dreaming, maybe unconsciously remembering something he did to her. She was in pain. Of course she called out his name."

"Some of us don't quite see it that way," Hollick said from his vantage point beside Woolsey. "The marines that were monitoring the surveillance – that are trained to analyse this kind of thing—"

"Besides which," Woolsey cut off the major, saying, "If she can remember _unconsciously,_ then the memories are there, she just needs help to access them and—"

"Let her go," demanded Ronon.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Woolsey said.

"She can't help you, and you don't want her here, so let her go," the Satedan said again. His voice was clipped and angry. "She can go back to her people. She'll be comfortable there, and safe… as safe as she would be here, anyways. Halling won't let anything happen to her."

"As I just said," Woolsey repeated with exaggerated patience, "I can't do that."

"Why not?" Sheppard asked, getting a terrible, sinking feeling inside of him.

"Because the IOA, in consultation with Stargate Command, has ordered that she be transported to Earth so that she can be properly, and fully debriefed… so that those unconscious memories can be brought to the fore. The information she has on Michael's operations could be vital to the survival of—"

"No," Sheppard folded his arms and breathed out quickly down his nose, trying to keep his anger from mounting any further. It was a futile attempt.

"I'm sorry, but it isn't up to you, Colonel Sheppard," Woolsey said, "and Stargate Command has also instructed me to warn you that should you attempt to interfere – any of you," he added, looking pointedly at Ronon and then McKay, "then you too will be censured."

"I'm not going to let you get away with this," Sheppard growled, taking a step toward Woolsey. "Threaten me with Court Marshal just to get your own way over Teyla? That's low, even for you!"

"Low or not, it's what will happen, Colonel, if you try to interfere," Woolsey said. "Besides, you have a meeting to attend. If we are going to find Michael, and hopefully exonerate Teyla, as you seem so convinced of her innocence, then we need this alliance with Todd and his Wraith."

Almost before the words had left Woolsey's mouth, Sheppard stretched out an arm to hold Ronon back from attacking the wiry little man. They were backed into a corner. Stargate Command would not be gentle with Teyla in getting whatever truth from her she could remember. The only way to help her now was to do as Woolsey had, albeit sarcastically, suggested and find Michael. If Todd could help them to do that, then they _had_ to go and cement the deal with the Wraith.

"You _dare_ do anything before I get back, and I swear," he warned Woolsey in a deadly, serious tone, "I will feed you to the Wraith myself."

**

Sheppard looked around as they materialised at the new rendezvous site. Neither party had been comfortable to meet where every shadow might harbour an Iratus bug just waiting to drain the life from them, so, after scanning the planet, Sheppard had suggested a small rocky valley on the planet's only other landmass from their previous meeting place.

McKay frowned as he joined Sheppard in his perusal of the site. "And this is better… how exactly?" he complained. The valley was no less damp, and still as inhospitable as the previous meeting place. The rocks were equally as shadowed and might as easily hide all kinds of dangers. "You couldn't have suggested a morning meeting?"

"This _is_ morning, Rodney," Sheppard told him, signalling to his men to spread themselves out among the rocks. "Planet is in the perpetual shade of its largest moon."

"No wonder nothing grows or lives here," Ronon said.

"Aside from the… Iratus bugs," Rodney reminded them.

"Thanks for that," Sheppard said humourlessly.

"So what _does _make this a better site?" Ronon asked.

"The Gate," Sheppard answered almost casually.

"Gate," Rodney said, his interest piqued once more, "No one mentioned there was a Gate. Wher—"

"That's because the Gate here is only of any use one way," Todd purred as he and his soldiers stepped from the shadows.

"You have _got_ to stop _doing_ that!" Sheppard admonished, turning to face the Wraith. Todd chuckled, a rattle in the windswept valley. Sheppard gave him a sour smirk and then added, "What do you mean, one way?"

"The dialling device was damaged some time ago and was never repaired," Todd replied. "Otherwise I would have suggested each of us should travel in that manner and not trouble our respective star ships to bring us."

"That's mighty neighbourly of you," Sheppard glanced at McKay. "See what you can do, Rodney. According to Daedalus' sensors it should be about three klicks west of here."

"If you'd like, I can have some of my soldiers show you its location," Todd suggested.

"I think I can manage," Rodney said, and Sheppard could hear the badly masked suspicion in his voice.

"It's no bother," Todd said, mildly teasing in his tone.

"Edwards, Robbins," Sheppard called out to the marines, "Go with McKay… and the Wraith," he added before Todd could protest, "We are meeting here in friendship, after all."

"Indeed," Todd purred, and barely glanced in the direction of two of his soldiers, who moved to join the small party assembling off to one side.

Sheppard waited, and watched as McKay and the others stepped out and soon became swallowed by the darkness. Then he turned his attention back to the Wraith Commander in front of him.

"So," Sheppard started, "Your people and my people… how exactly do you see this working?"

"I had imagined we would work together," Todd answered, a shrug evident in the pattern of his speech, "as we did when we defeated the Replicators."

"Except when we catch up to Michael."

"As I said, it is… important that he be taken alive," Todd confirmed.

"See, that's where we have a problem," Sheppard said. "He's responsible for a lot of heartache – not to mention kidnapping, murder—"

"And I assure you he will be brought to justice," Todd interrupted.

"What _kind_ of justice?" Ronon growled, fingering the grip of his weapon.

"Wraith justice," Todd hissed, and Sheppard couldn't help the shiver that went through him.

"One condition," Ronon insisted. Todd spread his hands, inviting Ronon to name his clause. "When you're through with him, Doctor Keller verifies the body."

"You suspect us of subterfuge even _before_ this alliance is cemented," Todd raised his voice just enough to unsettle the marines, who grasped their weapons more tightly. Todd took in a deep breath, that seemed to calm him somewhat, before he added, "When we are, 'through with him,' as you say, there will be very little _left_ to identify, Ronon Dex."

"A little is all I need." Ronon rumbled softly.

**

Quiet times occurred few and far between aboard a battle cruiser and Caldwell enjoyed the times when he could commune with his ship and her crew. He walked the hallways slowly, on occasion stopping to exchange quiet words with one of the ever present, perpetually busy maintenance engineers.

He was confident the bridge and ship's systems were in safe hands. He couldn't have wished for a more competent Con. Officer than Major Marks.

He smiled at the man as he completed his tour and returned to the command position. He was trying very hard not to allow the sight of the Wraith cruiser unsettle him, but the truth was, being so close to an enemy battleship bothered him. It wasn't necessarily the closeness, as much as the fact that neither ship was firing on the other, that so troubled him.

"Sir?" Marks' voice almost startled him out of his contemplation.

"What is it, Major?"

"I'm not certain, Colonel," Marks was frowning at his sensor displace. "For a moment I had an echo or something on subspace sensors."

"Heads up," Caldwell ordered, and though Marks told him that whatever had caused the echo was gone, the Con. officer complied with the order none-the-less and activated the Tactical HUD.

"It was right there, Sir," Marks said, "almost on the edge of the sys—" He broke off and his confused tone became one of urgency. "I'm detecting a hyperspace window forming, full astern," he said, adding, "It's Wrai— my God!"

Caldwell didn't wait to see what had caused the additional outburst. "Bring us about," he ordered, "shields up."

Marks didn't have time to enact either order before the Daedalus rocked under the first of the shots fired at her.

**

"Our intelligence leads us to believe that several settlements on worlds within these systems contain sympathisers with the renegade," Todd turned his tablet so that Sheppard could see the star map. Sheppard at least could identify the placement of the stars if not read the text. "And that at least one of his facilities lies within the region, but that is all we have managed to gather. He is a very cautious individual."

"Makes a twisted kind of sense, I guess," Sheppard said. "Our people made contact with settlements here, and here," he pointed out two of the planet shaped dots on the screen, "and many of the people there suffer from the effects of the Hoffan drug, some survivors."

"That's very interesting, Colonel," Todd tilted his head slightly to one side.

"Consider it a… show of good faith on our part," Sheppard said.

Todd inclined his head in a nod of gratitude, before he said, "Our most recent encounter with… Michael took place here," Todd switched the screen on his tablet to show a wider view, and a system some distance away from the worlds they had been discussing. "We tried several times to fit together some kind of pattern based on what we already know, but…"

When Todd shrugged, Sheppard said, "Let me guess – there _is_ no pattern."

"Oh, there is a pattern," Todd corrected, "just that it is one which carefully conceals anything of worth. It was pure luck that led us to find him the last time."

"Isn't that—" Ronon asked, peering at Todd's tablet.

"Yeah," Sheppard confirmed.

"Come now, Colonel Sheppard," Todd said, admonishing them for their secrecy.

"One of our people that had been taken by Michael—" Sighing, Sheppard began to explain.

"Ah, this is where you found Teyla," Todd surmised. Sheppard nodded. "Then it is fortunate for her that we engaged the renegade there."

"Yeah, I guess we should say—"

_"Sheppard, this is Daedalus."_

"Go ahead," Sheppard keyed his headset mic.

"_We're under attack,_" Caldwell, clearly under duress, told him.

"What?" Sheppard asked, unable to keep the horrified surprise from his voice, or to keep from glancing at Todd in open suspicion.

"The Queen…" the Wraith said, his voice trailing off into a sigh.

"_A few seconds ago,_" Caldwell continued, "_the biggest damned Hive ship you ever saw came out of hyperspace almost right behind us; opened fire immediately._"

"You double crossing son-of-a-bitch," Sheppard growled at Todd, "you set us up!"

Lacking ease of access to his P90, Sheppard drew his handgun and aimed angrily at Todd. Disappointment lent extra fuel to his anger. Beside him, almost in the same instant, Ronon drew his own sidearm.

"I swear to you, John Sheppard, I knew nothing of this," Todd spread his hands, a gesture meant to be placating. "I have been deceived as much as you."

"Why should I believe you?" Sheppard snapped, and realised, as he said the words, that he truly _wanted_ to believe and not to have been deceived again.

**

Teyla was hot and beginning to feel a little claustrophobic. Her quarters were a reminder of everything that was wrong since she had returned… since she had _been_ returned… to Atlantis. She was more convinced as each moment passed, that in truth, that was what had happened. Her return to New Lantea had had not been some happy accident; had not been a matter of her companions stumbling on her whereabouts, but had been part of some well orchestrated plan that was even now unfolding around her, and which she was powerless to alter or prevent. That she could remember nothing only frustrated and frightened her still further.

_-…Teyla-_

The memory of her name on his lips came on her suddenly, so strong that she could almost hear it and knew that it had been preceded by other words she could not recall. She leaned against the window, staring out over the ocean, fighting to recall them; to unveil them to her conscious mind.

"Teyla…" When Major Hollick came into her room and called her name she barely even heard him, she was so lost in her contemplation. He had to call her name again a second, and then a third time, before she turned her head to look at him. "They're almost ready for you in the Gate Room."

With a tired sigh, she peeled herself away from the window and walked to join the major. Part way across the room, the resigned thought pushed its way to the surface of her mind.

…_Will I still feel you in another galaxy…?_

**

"_It's now or never, Sheppard,_" Caldwell said urgently into his ear. "_What's it to be?_"

"Call her off," Sheppard demanded of Todd, grabbing the Wraith by the arm and almost shaking him. "This plan can work, we can find him together, but I need that ship."

"It's not as easy as that," Todd started to explain.

"_Sheppard!_" Caldwell repeated, with more alarm in his voice. "_There's no more time._"

"You have to at least try," Sheppard pressed. "You want me to believe you're not involved in this – get her to call off the attack."

Todd stared at him for a moment, and at his expression Sheppard began to realise the enormity of what he was asking; was expecting. Finally Todd inclined his head.

"I will speak with her," he said.

**

The ship rocked beneath him as another explosion reverberated through the hull. The Wraith weapons were cutting through the shields like a hot knife through butter and he knew there was only so much more that The Daedalus could take.

"Damn it, Sheppard, I swear if you don't answer me I'm beaming you out of there and making a run for hyperspace while we still have a ship to run with!"

"_Negative, Colonel,_" Sheppard finally answered. "_I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding. Continue to take a defensive position. We'll have it all cleared up in a minute or two._"

"This ship isn't going to _last_ another minute or two. We—"

A massive, percussive flash rolled out across the bridge behind him and the entire ship bucked, as if protesting the treatment. The automatic fire suppression system fired, filling the area immediately behind and to the left of the command position with inert gasses that were vented just as quickly, taking the fire with them as though swallowing it down.

"We just lost main beaming capability," Marks' voice sounded like a death knell as he continued, "The Hive is launching darts."

"That's it," Caldwell snapped, "to hell with a defensive position. Launch the three-oh-twos. I'm not about to sit still and do nothing while the Wraith take this ship apart a piece at a time. Engineering – see what you can do about getting our beaming technology back online." Hardly pausing for breath, he called down to Sheppard, "We just lost the ability to beam you out of there so I sure as hell hope you're confident in your ability to stop this. The Hive launched darts and our three-oh-twos are heading to intercept."

"_Damn it, Steven—_"

"What do you want me to do – roll over and play dead?" he snapped. "Whatever you're doing obviously isn't working. Find yourself somewhere to sit tight and we'll do what we can to get _you_ out of there."

"Colonel Caldwell," Marks interrupted, sounding fearful, "I'm reading several hyperspace windows forming." He was frowning when Caldwell glanced in his direction. "Multiple contacts – they're in theatre. It's the Wraith, Sir."

"What, _more_ of them?" Caldwell peered at the HUD.

"Wait a minute," Marks said, confused, "the lead cruiser just fired on the Hive. The others are following, Sir. They've launched darts."

Frowning, Caldwell got up from his command chair and approached the viewing window to watch, real time, as the four cruisers that had jumped to their position closed in on the massive Hive, firing as they came. Darts came streaming out of their bellies, heading to join the fight, weaving in and out of the three-oh-twos. It was a chaotic dance.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked rhetorically.

"Sent by a rival Hive?" Marks suggested.

"Maybe," Caldwell agreed, though something in his gut was not so sure, and then frowned still more deeply as a number of the darts began to head away from the ships. "Major Marks, Where are those darts going?"

**

McKay practically fell to his knees in front of the DHD and pulled off the front panel. From inside his jacket he took a small tool pouch and began to examine the crystals and circuits inside the cylindrical column. He was still breathless from the forced mark he'd adopted the minute he began listening in on the conversation between Caldwell and Sheppard, as certain as he ever was that _he_ would be called on to save the day.

"As usual," he grumbled to himself as he began to test one circuit after another. At least all of the crystals were in place and seemed to be intact. In fact, the more he examined the dialling device, the more he realised that it was not as badly damaged as he had feared. "Why the hell didn't they fix it? It doesn't make any sense."

"Doctor McKay?" Robbins asked, confused.

"Looks to me as if just one of the circuits overloaded and that's why the Gate won't dial out, but I'm sure, if this _was_ a Wraith stronghold, and let's face it, what Ancient in his right mind would want to live in a desolate hellhole like this, anybody for that matter, even the Wraith would have been able to fix this – so why didn't they?"

"That means you can fix it, right?" Edwards asked.

"Yes, of course I can fix it," McKay said testily. "Why wouldn't I be able to, if even the Wraith can do it?"

"One day, human," one of the Wraith that Todd had sent with them evidently took exception to McKay's words and tone, and decided to join the conversation, "you will meet the Wraith who is your equal, or perhaps even superior to you."

"Unlikely," McKay answered blithely, and yet, in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder, and a conversation with Teyla and his own words came rushing up on him unexpectedly.

_"…We know very little of his past other than he was a Wraith," Teyla said._

_"A very _smart_ Wraith," He said as he looked over Michael's data._

_"Perhaps he was a scientist," she surmised, glancing at him from the doorway._

_Engrossed in the data, he answered distractedly, "Huh? Sure. Probably. Why not? One of their very best, I'd wager."_

_"Like you."_

He shuddered at the thought and more than a little quickly set to work repairing the damaged circuit.

Barely minutes passed before he began to hear the familiar and unwelcome sound of Wraith darts buzzing in the air. One handed, he keyed his headset mic.

"Sheppard, we've got company," he said.

"_I hear 'em_," Sheppard's voice came back, slow and reassuring. "_You just concentrate on getting that Gate operational._"

"Yes, well, it might not be as simple as all that," he finally admitted, tossing aside the tool he was using and pulling on the board until it came out of its place. "If it were any of the other circuits that were fried on this thing I could have it fixed in seconds, I'd just route the control through an already existing system."

"_So what's the problem?_" Sheppard asked.

"The problem is that the circuit that holds the point of origin, that actually _finishes_ the dialling sequence, is shot to hell." he grumbled.

"_But you can fix it, right?_" Sheppard said.

McKay sighed irritably, "Yes, of course I can fix it," he snapped, "It'll just take time, is all." As he spoke a new sound filled the air, making a counterpoint to the low buzzing of the darts, slightly more musical, but even more deadly. "Sheppard…" he called out, his voice taking on a note of panic. Before he could explain further, the ground beside him exploded, showering him with dirt and rocky debris, as a Wraith blaster was fired in his direction by the soldiers that had been beamed down.

Beside him, Edwards and Robbins didn't wait for orders they just raised their weapons and started firing.

"_Here too, McKay,_" Sheppard said, and over the radio he could hear the sound of weapons' fire from the colonel's location. "_Just keep working on fixing the Gate. Soon as you have, dial Atlantis; get us reinforcements on the ground!_"

"See," he grumbled to himself, "I knew it… just knew it!"

It never failed to surprise McKay how much 'pressure' was a motivating factor for him, and there was no greater pressure than the many Wraith soldiers that were being beamed in. As soon as they had, of course, Todd's Wraith had turned coat and joined their brothers in fighting against them. His hands flew over the circuit, switching one tool for another and another as he tried to find a route across the board that was not already burned out or in danger of overload the moment the gate was activated.

A bolt of heat and light flashed across in front of his face, as one of the Wraith aimed much more closely in his direction. McKay ducked aside, trying to use the base of the DHD as cover. Partially surrounded by Wraith warriors, it was not much help.

McKay jumped, and let out a little cry of his own as, from nearby, Robbins screamed as he fell to a Wraith blaster.

"Come on, come on, come on, come on," he chanted at the circuit as he tried one final route across the board. Triumph, the green light on the meter he was using to test the circuit burned as a victory signal before his eyes. "Yes!"

He wasted no time thrusting the circuit back into place. He could not have timed the moment better if he had choreographed the Wraith assault ahead of time. In the second the board slid home, Edwards flew across the clearing in front of the Gate to land, a crumpled heap against the base of the DHD. Glancing back toward the direction from which he came, McKay saw a Wraith warrior beginning to bear down on him… on them both, he reminded himself. Quickly he snatched up the fallen marine's weapon, and barely aiming in the right direction began firing one handed, the butt of the gun jammed against his hip to give _some_ stability to it, and with the other hand, he quickly dialled Atlantis.

The familiar rush of sound and shimmering light from the creation of the event horizon did little to calm his frantic, panicked heartbeat.

**

"Unscheduled offworld activation!"

Woolsey came, all but running, from his office as the alarms began to sound throughout the city, skidding to a halt in the middle of the control room. Already a small group of marines were taking up defensive positions in the Gate Room, even though the shield was still in place.

"Receiving IDC – it's Doctor McKay."

"Lower the shield," Woolsey ordered. The moment the shield faded, all hell broke loose.

McKay staggered from the event Horizon, frantically grappling with a masked Wraith warrior. Trying to keep the creature's hands at bay, the scientist yelled, "Shut it down!"

Woolsey nodded quickly and the technician's hand flashed across the console. The wavering blue light disappeared in an instant, leaving the fight between the doctor and the Wraith in stark grey against the normal lighting.

"Down!" a marine's voice rang out, almost as loud as the gunfire that followed. McKay barely had time to stop struggling with the Wraith and cover his head with his hands before the group of marines opened fire on the intruder. The Wraith staggered under the percussive force of the many bullets hitting him, falling backwards through the inactive gate. The Gate Room finally breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"Doctor McKay, what happened," Woolsey said urgently as he hurried down the stairs.

"Wraith," McKay squeaked, beginning to uncurl from his foetal position.

"I can see that," Woolsey said, "but how… when?"

"Minutes ago," McKay said breathlessly, starting to pull himself together a little, "Caldwell reported the Hive had arrived."

"_The_ Hive?"

"The… the… the Mother-Hive… M3X-667…" McKay took up Woolsey's offer of assistance to rise. "They need reinforcements on the ground."

"Todd double-crossed us," Woolsey said, and it was not quite a question.

"No. Yes. I don't know – maybe!" McKay snapped, "Look, Sheppard's still out there. He _needs_ reinforcements."

"Captain Warsh," Woolsey turned his head to one of the marines in the Gate Room, "Assemble your teams, be ready to go in five." The captain nodded curtly, and then began to order his men to round up their fellow soldiers. Then Woolsey keyed his radio headset and gave one further order. "Major Hollick, escort Teyla back to her quarters. Her trip to Earth will have to wait."

**

Major Hollick led the way along the corridor back toward her quarters, behind her, two more armed men followed – men at whose side she had fought – men for whom she would have risked injury, even death. The betrayal cut deeply.

The sound of the footsteps behind her changed slightly, and Teyla glanced behind her, to see Doctor McKay joining the small escort party. She stopped and turned to face him.

"What are you doing?" Hollick demanded.

She ignored the major and smiled briefly at McKay. "Rodney," she said softly, "It is good to see you." Her smile faded a little and she asked a little more curtly, "Is there something you wanted?"

"Just… look," he started, "I know this is probably my fault," he gestured to the marines escorting her, "I just wanted you to know that I never intended for any of this to happen. If there's any way I can help – anything I can do to make things easier…"

"If that is true, if you _are_ responsible for the way I have been treated," she nodded in response to his apology, "then I should thank you. You have begun to open my eyes to the lie under which I have been living. My only wish is that you could have come to _me_ from the start."

"Ma'am," Hollick interrupted softly, "Your quarters?"

"Yeah," McKay said nodding slowly, "I guess I deserved that… Teyla—"

Looking at him intently for a moment, Teyla said softly, "Forgive me," and frowned, the words feeling strangely familiar to her for no reason she could understand. Slowly she turned away, to face Hollick and the direction in which they were going. With no warning, she spun around again and raised her forearm to smash it against Rodney's face. He staggered backwards into the two marines behind him. Without letting her momentum fail, she completed a full circle, bringing up her leg, foot leading to impact hard against Hollick's chest, following through with a second forearm smash, this time to the side of the man's head. As he staggered away from her, momentarily stunned, she made a grab for his sidearm, and without waiting for the tangle of men behind her to recover, set off at a run along the corridor. With no knowledge of why, she headed for the infirmary. She barely heard the winded Hollick report her escape to Woolsey.

"Get out!" she yelled at the orderlies as she came charging into the infirmary. As they left, she closed and locked the door, then fired a shot into the panel, ignoring the sparks that leaped to bite her shoulder and the side of her face. Instead she all but ran to the refrigerator and fired ahead of her to take out the glass in the door.

Heedless of the jagged glass, she reached in and snatched up the vial, and the syringe she had attached to it with a rubber band, slipping it into her pocket. She turned quickly as she heard the hurried footsteps coming her way.

"Drop your weapon!" she ordered the marine flanking Doctor Keller. When he did not comply, she shouted, "Do it!" and, shifting her aim barely an inch away from the man's face, she fired another round. Wisely, perhaps feeling the stinging heat of the bullet, the man carefully set down his weapon and backed away. He tried to hook Jennifer by the arm, but the doctor snatched her elbow away from him.

"Take it easy, Teyla." she said softly.

"Do not get in my way, Jennifer," she warned. "Move aside – both of you."

Cautiously she began to circle toward the doorway that led to the isolation wing, gesturing with the weapon for them to move the other way. When she reached the automatic weapon that the marine had dropped to the ground, she kicked it ahead of her, until she could crouch down, without taking her eyes off the others, and pick it up.

"You don't have to do this," Jennifer told her softly. "I know you're frightened – I would be too, but this isn't the way."

"It is the only way I have left to me, Jennifer," Teyla said, and shook her head slightly. "It is all they understand. They _drove_ me to this."

Without warning, she raised the barrel of the P90 and with a short burst of gunfire shattered the lights, drawing a little scream from Jennifer, and plunging the room into darkness. Under that cover, she made her way into the isolation room, closed and locked the door, and shorted out the control panel with a single shot from her sidearm. She knew it would not hold them for long, but at least it would give her a moment's peace to think.

Angrily, she blinked away her gathering tears.

**

They were already pinned down by sheer force of the number of Wraith that had been beamed down to fight with them. Todd's attempt to contact the Queen had been fruitless. She had _refused_ to hear him, he said, so he and what few Wraith remained loyal to him had retreated to their dart so that he could go to her physically; speak with her and get her to call off the senseless attack.

But that meant that he would need time, and time was something that Sheppard and the others did not have. Even with the reinforcements that Woolsey had sent, they were heavily outnumbered.

"Incoming!" Warsh called out as a wave of Darts came buzzing in across the sky.

"Ah, great, that's _all_ we need!" Sheppard said sourly. He took a tighter grip on his weapon, trying to be ready to face the inevitable. He ordered, "Stay sharp. We're in trouble, guys."

The Darts' culling beams swept across the ground, their heat-haze wavering clearing to leave figures in their wake. One of their Wraith attackers suddenly grunted and contorted in agony as a bolt of energy from a blaster engulfed him. He fell, smoking, to the ground.

Around him Sheppard saw the focus of the battle shifting. The Wraith attacks were no longer aimed solely at him and his men, but split between them and the newcomers, defending as much as they were attacking. Overhead the Darts, too, began to engage, firing energy weapons that scorched the ground below with their heat.

"What the—" Sheppard started to say, but then one of the newcomers' faces was briefly lit up in the light of an explosion from a Dart that crashed to the ground. The figure was human – mostly, dressed in homespun, thick linen and leather… and on the man's face the tell-tale twin marks of the Wraith-Human Hybrids.

Finally, what was happening began to fall into place, though the reasons for it remained something that was beyond his comprehension.

"He's here," he said softly, a tremulous note of frightened worry in his voice.

"What?" Ronon asked, "Who?"

"Michael."


	4. Act 4

**Act 4**

Teyla's hand shook as she reached for Major Lorne's IV. She moved her eyes over his face, taking in his changed features, his mottled skin, the engorged veins around his temples and on the side of his face, and the beginnings of the twin depressions to each side of his face.

With some little difficulty she disconnected the drip from the cannula and unfastened his restraints, not really knowing why, except perhaps that she was transferring her own feeling of betrayal to him, and that seeing him held captive like that was making it all so much worse.

"_Teyla, this is Mister Woolsey._"

She jumped as Woolsey's voice, patched through the infirmary's P.A., sounded inside the room.

"_I'm outside the isolation room, and I'd very much like to come inside and speak with you. I understand you're angry… and frightened – all I want to do is talk. I'm going to have Doctor McKay open the door._"

Quickly she came around the bed on which Lorne was lying, and aimed the P90 at the centre of the doors. She knew it wouldn't take Rodney long to bypass the damaged control panel. Only moments later the door began to move.

"Stay where you are," she demanded as soon as she could see through the door. Woolsey stood in front of a small group of people, his hands raised and empty as far as she could tell. "I _will_ shoot you if you move before I tell you."

"I believe you, Teyla," Woolsey said softly. "You're in control here… I only want to talk."

Behind Woolsey, Major Hollick stood tense and at the ready, his hand gripping his weapon, and beside him, two other marines stood clutching stunners. To the side of the small group, Jennifer watched, looking concerned, and beside her, McKay, tablet in hand, his nose red and swollen, his eyes already blackening. She felt a pang of remorse at that.

"May I come inside?" Woolsey asked after a moment.

"Have Major Hollick and his men drop their weapons, slide them over to Doctor Keller. She can bring them inside, put them on the table." She jerked her head slightly to indicate the examination table to her left.

"All right," Woolsey answered, nodding to the marines. "What else?"

"The door stays open. Everyone remains where I can see them," she insisted. "If anyone moves—"

"No one will, you have my word." Woolsey said.

"I hope you have more faith in your word than I," she growled, "since it will be your life in danger."

"I don't think you really want to hurt me, Teyla," he said mildly.

She watched in silence as the marines slowly relinquished their weapons, following her instructions, and sliding them over to Jennifer. The doctor picked them up and began to carry them to the examination table Teyla had indicated.

"Teyla, you—" Jennifer began as she set down the weapons.

"No, Jennifer," she said, "It is regrettable that it has come to this, but I will not be treated this way any longer. Please… return to the others."

"But—"

"Now, Doctor!" she raised her voice a little.

"Doctor Keller," Woolsey said gently, encouraging her to leave the room. She complied with a sad sounding sigh. Once Jennifer had returned to Rodney's side, Teyla glanced at everyone to see that there was little or no threat remaining from any of them, before she lay down the P90 and picked up one of the handguns.

"Step inside… slowly," she told him, and waited while he did so, his hands still raised. "You wanted to talk, though I do not think there is much we have left to talk _about,_ Mister Woolsey."

"I owe you an apology," he said, slowly lowering his hands.

"Too little, too late," she answered without pause. "Everything you have done to me since my return… every assault on my privacy, every betrayal of trust… How can I believe anything you say to me now?"

"I understand how you feel, Teyla," he answered, "truly, I do."

"You have treated me with enmity, Mister Woolsey," she said, her voice like a knife in the silence, "when I have most needed your help. You have denied me everything that could have made this better."

"It was never my intention," he told her. "I was only trying to maintain the security of Atlantis."

"By punishing me for my captivity with Michael!" she shouted the accusatory question, tightening her finger on the trigger.

"No one is punishing you," he said.

"You were all but ready to turn me over to your interrogators on Earth," she said.

"Listen to yourself, Teyla," he said softly, "Do you know how paranoid you sound?"

"Can you not see the reason for my paranoia?" she asked sarcastically, "When you have me followed day and night, when you put surveillance in my quarters?"

"We were concerned for you."

"You were _concerned_ for yourself." she said, her voice full of contempt. "I did not matter to you – I have _never_ mattered to you."

**

"Let's just… try and keep calm, shall we?" Woolsey asked mildly. Jennifer switched her gaze between the base commander and the exhausted, edgy Athosian. They were watching each other intently, never taking their eyes from each other, each trying to bend the other to their own viewpoint. She sighed. She could see the truth from both sides – though she vehemently disapproved of Woolsey's methods. He could have allowed her to guide Teyla through the days following her return to them. She had tried to tell him as much on many occasions, but he had always pushed aside her warnings; ignored her advice. Now they were each paying the price of his bombastic leadership style.

"What do you expect of me, Mister Woolsey?" Teyla snapped in response. "You have backed me into a corner. Do you expect me to just… acquiesce to your every wish?"

"Only to one," he told her, and gestured toward Jennifer. "I want you to surrender yourself to Doctor Keller's care." Keller tried to soften her expression, but the tumultuous thunder she saw beginning to form on Teyla's face made it hard. "I promise you that she, and only she, will speak with you about anything to do with the… missing time you have from your memory. Let her help you, and when she thinks you are ready, we can all meet again to consider how we might go forward from there."

The doctor saw the wavering indecision on Teyla's face, as though for a moment she was considering his words; as though she would believe what Jennifer knew he would, himself, be unable to comply with.

"Jennifer?" Teyla questioned, and Keller felt herself flushing slightly, wearing her heart – and her beliefs – on her sleeve. Teyla saw it, she must have, because she continued, "You do not believe him."

"I want to," she admitted to the other woman, "And I think _he_ wants to try and do as he says."

"But you do not believe that he will."

**

Woolsey sighed slightly. Just when he thought he was beginning to make progress; to move beyond the impasse and find a way to resolve the situation, Teyla's astute, quick mind provided her with answers that contradicted his words, his intentions, and she slammed the door closed on him. He took a breath.

"Ronon… suggested that you might like to… return to your people. You could remain with them throughout your recovery." He tried to make progress once more. "Doctor Keller could visit you there."

Teyla began to open her mouth to reply.

Behind the Athosian woman, and slightly to the left, a shadow moved and a shape lunged toward her.

"Teyla, look out!" Woolsey called out, but even his urgent call came too late. Neither could Teyla's reactions, slowed by her suspicion of him, save her. In the time it took him to blink, Lorne had wrapped an arm around Teyla from behind, and held a scalpel to her throat. In his other hand, Major Lorne held Hollick's sidearm, aimed perfectly in Woolsey's direction.

"Give me the gun, Teyla," Lorne said, his voice straining and on the edge of sibilant.

**

"Evan," Teyla whispered, the terrible, complicated situation becoming more so by the moment. "You have to let me go."

"The gun… Teyla," he repeated. "In my hand…"

Slowly she drew back the weapon, turning it so that she could bring the butt of the gun toward the hand that held the knife to her throat. She kept the rest of her very still.

"Stand down, Major," Woolsey tried, but Lorne ignored him and, dropping the knife, snatched the weapon from Teyla's hand and instantly pointed it at her head.

"You can't believe him. You know that," Lorne told her.

"Please, Major Lorne, this is not your fight," she told him.

"You're wrong."

Something in the tone of his voice made her turn her head suddenly in his direction, take a step away. He did not move, did not waver in his aim at her head, or in his aim on Woolsey. She blinked, and swallowed as she looked on the major, and then whispered his name.

"We're going to walk out of here – the three of us," Lorne said. "No one interferes, and you both do as you're told, no one will be hurt."

"Where are you taking us?" Woolsey asked as Lorne crossed to him.

"You'll find out soon enough," was the only answer Lorne would give.

**

"Fall back," Sheppard ordered.

The three way battle was not going well. In spite of the fierce attack by a small group of Michael's hybrid soldiers, the Wraith were concentrating most heavily on Sheppard and the soldiers from Atlantis.

As fast as the Wraith were taken down, the Darts beamed in reinforcements. To Sheppard, something felt askew… something not right…

"Warsh!" Ronon yelled to the Marine, repeating the order. "Fall back!"

Sheppard guessed that the captain was pinned against the rocks, where he was sheltering, by crossfire between two of the groups and that, if he moved, he risked exposing himself, risked injury or death.

At Ronon's call, Sheppard looked over in the direction of the marine captain and swore softly, behind the man, another Wraith was making his way through the rocks toward Warsh.

"Gotta get him out of there," he murmured to Ronon.

"Don't need to tell _me_ twice," the big man replied, and grinning somewhat grimly, he gripped his weapon and flexed his muscle ready to make the charge.

"On three," Sheppard suggested.

"Screw three," Ronon replied, and in the next instant launched himself out into the open, firing rapidly and screaming as he went. Sheppard shook his head and muttered under his breath before he too made a run for the middle of the fight.

Ronon's weapon sounded again and again as he fired first one way and then the other, trying to give cover to the retreating soldiers and to Warsh in particular; to discourage the Wraith behind him from getting any closer. As Sheppard caught up to him, supporting the slower, but perhaps more effective, energy weapon with the percussive rounds fired by his P90, another wave of Darts headed their way after entering the atmosphere.

"These guys just never give up!" Sheppard grumbled, as the first of the culling beams activated, seeding the ground with fresh Wraith warriors.

Ronon abandoned his blaster in favour of his heavy sword as he scrambled over the rocks toward Warsh. The blade flashed, reflecting the bursts of light from the energy weapons that blazed all around.

"Sheppard!" he called, "he's hurt!"

"Damn it," Sheppard turned and backed toward them, firing all the way. The rest of the Lantean soldiers had retreated and it was just the three of them, with Wraith and hybrids all around. "This is insane." He keyed his headset, yelling above the sound of his weapon, "Daedalus, this is Sheppard, any chance of an emergency beam out yet? Warsh is hit."

"_Negative, Sheppard._" Caldwell sounded apologetic, as well as obviously in the thick of the fray. "_Our engineers are still working on it. You'll have to do it the old fashioned way._"

"Understood," Sheppard said. He scrambled over the rocks and crouched beside the stricken marine, trusting Ronon to keep them both covered from attack by the nearby Wraith. Warsh had taken a hit to the top of his chest, the bleeding looked bad, and the captain was grey with the pain of it.

"Sorry, Colonel," Warsh gasped, "Guess I didn't take cover fast enough."

"Take it easy, solider," Sheppard said. He reached into the pocket of his flack jacket and took out the emergency medical pouch. It didn't contain much, he knew – just something to pad the wound, and a single shot of morphine, but at least it would give them the chance to get the man out of immediate danger – if that was even possible for any of them.

**

The Wraith grinned at Ronon as if in anticipation of their fight to come. Ronon responded by stepping closer, turning the blade around full circle, taunting the Wraith to dare to try and reach him; reach his friends.

Still grinning, the Wraith reached behind him, and without a warning, came at Ronon, a wicked looking, long, barbed knife in each hand. The speed of the attack and the ferocity of it were astonishing and, Ronon thought, against anyone other than him, would probably have been devastating. He stepped toward the Wraith and met each of the incoming strikes, sending sparks into the air around them.

Time slowed as Ronon found his rhythm, his blade weaving first one way, and then the other, meeting the Wraith's incoming strikes both high and low. His momentum built until he was able to do more than just defend and was able to step forward, into an attacking posture. Higher and higher he forced the Wraith to defend. He aimed a strike at the creature's chest, and next his shoulders, forcing the Wraith to shift his balance, and back away to keep out of reach of the long, sharp blade with which Ronon fought.

The Satedan warrior raised his free hand to equalise his balance for the coming strike. His enemy grinned as Ronon telegraphed exactly how he would be coming at him, striking for the Wraith's head. The Wraith pulled back on himself, concentrating all of his defence against the attack that would come at his throat.

Without warning, Ronon dropped his back foot and came down onto his knee as his arm drove the sword forward. Far from aiming at the surprised Wraith's heavily defended throat, he took him in the belly. Bracing himself, bunching his muscles to rise, the Satedan warrior turned the blade to find the Wraith's cold heart before he recovered enough from his surprise and used the strength of his pain to drive the knives into the momentarily vulnerable Ronon.

The barbed knives fell, harmlessly, to the ground as Ronon twisted the blade again, ignoring the hot rush of Wraith blood against his hand. The Wraith's last breath hissed against the side of his face as the macabre embrace that stole his life came to an abrupt end. Ronon pushed him away in disgust.

"Warsh?" he asked Sheppard as he cleaned his blade on the bottom corner of the Wraith's coat.

"Bad," Sheppard answered, and turning Ronon saw for himself the condition of the injured man. "We're going to have to carry him out of here. You cover me and I'll—"

"No," Ronon shook his head. "You cover _me_ and I'll carry him."

**

Teyla rarely panicked, but in those next few moments she felt the beginnings of it like a hard spike driven deep in her belly. She had begun to waken to the realisation and the enormity of what she had done, and what was occurring. Everything of the last twenty four hours began to whirl violently around in her mind and she had no anchor, no point of safety.

Each step of the way they were followed by a growing number of marines – those that had not gone in support of Colonel Sheppard – who cautiously kept pace with their slow advance toward the Gate Room. Lorne had released his hold on her in favour of Woolsey, though he still covered her with his second weapon and she was no freer to make an escape than she would have been had he still held her.

She would not risk trying to resist, or to free Woolsey. She knew, as unsettled as she was, any mistake she made could cost either, or both, of their lives. They moved painfully slowly and she felt that the eyes of the entire city were on her, watching her every move, judging her, and finding her wanting… _this is all your fault_. Her head was pounding, her heart raced and she felt hot and dizzy, as though she was sick, and the wide corridor closed in around her.

"They did this, not you," Lorne said, as though he could read her thoughts.

"I've already admitted I took the wrong approach, Major," Woolsey said cautiously. "If you let us both go, I'm sure we can—"

Lorne growled, "No more talking!" and backed them into the Gate Room, where the rest of the base security was waiting.

As much as she saw it, Teyla _felt_ Lorne tense. She could see the stress building in him; in everything about him. "Hollick," she said to the obvious commander of security, "Tell your men to back away – their presence is… agitating Major Lorne. No one need get hurt."

"And let him go?" Hollick asked, his voice still laced somewhat with sarcasm.

"If Major Lorne leaves Atlantis, and no one here is hurt, surely that is a favourable outcome," she pressed.

"For _Michael_ maybe," Hollick argued. "With what Lorne knows about this bas—"

"You do not understand," Teyla said with a sigh, "What Evan knows, no longer matters. Anything Michael wishes, or wished, to know of this base is likely already open to him, Major Hollick."

"Unlikely," Woolsey argued, "though I can see the logic of your—"

"I said no talking!" Lorne pushed the handgun violently against the underside of Woolsey's chin and then called up to the control room. "Dial the gate."

"Sir?" the technician called down, uncertainly, as Lorne backed them toward the Gate. They stopped close enough to be within easy reach, but with enough clearance that the activating wormhole would not catch them in its initial rush.

"Under the circumstances," Woolsey said quietly, "perhaps it would be wise to follow his instructions."

The technician nodded. "What address?" she asked.

Lorne instructed. "To join Colonel Sheppard—" He suddenly broke off talking, grimacing as though some terrible cramp had grabbed his middle and was eating away at him. Some of the marines took the opportunity to inch their way forward. "No," Lorne gasped, straightening up and momentarily taking the gun from Teyla, to wave it in the Marine's direction, "stay away."

In that moment she could have done many things. She could have run. She could have taken advantage of Lorne's distraction and made a safer attempt to relieve him of the guns; to free Woolsey.

She did not.

For each thought of helping to resolve the situation, another, born of her anger, her disappointment, her fear for what would become of her, filled her mind with indecision. If only she could leave the city – find somewhere she could have a moment's peace to settle the whirling torrent of everything inside of her. She jumped as the wormhole rushed in to disturb the tension with a chilling rush.

"Come with me, Teyla," Lorne said, for the second time, echoing her thoughts with his words.

"Evan, I—" she stopped as he once again pointed the gun in her direction.

"It wasn't an invitation." he insisted, and started to move toward the, now stable, event horizon, still holding on to Woolsey.

She kept her eyes on Lorne as he moved; as he gestured to her with the gun to move closer to the shimmering blue puddle, fighting with herself as much as she was cautious of giving in to the major's request.

"Major Lorne, you don't need to do this," Woolsey tried once again to dissuade him from entering the Gate. "Come back to the infirmary. Let Doctor Keller—"

"She can't help me!" Lorne moaned, and for a moment, faltered. That moment was the one for which Hollick had apparently been waiting.

Teyla saw his movement only as a blur in the corner of her eye that came, like a shadow, barrelling toward them. The movement of the shadow slowed, became horribly drawn out as Lorne responded. He pushed her hard, toward the Gate, and all but threw Woolsey after her. The last she heard from Atlantis was the percussive ring of two shots fired, and the dull sound of a body hitting the floor.

**

Sheppard sent Ronon on ahead while he cleared up from treating Captain Warsh. It did not occur to him that the sounds of fighting around him had diminished, as though the Wraith had followed the battle elsewhere, much less had it crossed his mind why that should be so.

He quickly put away the items he hadn't used, and fastened the pouch, ready to put it into the pocket of his flack jacket once more, before standing and turning to go. To his credit, when he almost walked into the business end of the blaster aimed at his head, he had the good sense to raise his own weapon as well.

"Colonel Sheppard."

"Michael," Sheppard said sourly, and added with sarcastic cheer, "I must say, you're looking… well."

"And you look somewhat cornered, Colonel."

"Hmm," he said, shrugging a little, "Not so much. After a minute or two, Ronon will wonder where the hell I've gotten to, send someone back – maybe even come back himself."

"If I let you _live_ that long."

"Nah," Sheppard shook his head just slightly, "You were gonna kill me, you'd have done it already."

"You presume too much!" Michael took several menacing steps toward him and Sheppard, in spite of himself, backed up. "Your presence here is unnecessary; unwelcome."

"I could say the same about you," Sheppard said, tensing still further. Of all the times he'd seen Michael in various states of agitation, this seemed to be the worse of them. He tried to work out why, beside the danger they were all of them in, from the Wraith and the firepower of the massive Hive ship.

"It would be a lie," Michael snapped, "Were it not for the arrival of my cruisers, the Hive would have vaporised your ship."

Sheppard shivered at the truth of that… and the added realisation that if Michael and his hybrids hadn't shown up on the ground, they would likely be fighting a losing battle here as well.

"Why?" the question fell from his lips before he could stop it.

"My reasons are my own," Michael growled at him, before calming in the space of a heartbeat and tilting his head, he added, "Besides, I could not allow you to form an alliance, against me, with the Wraith."

"I don't buy it," Sheppard took another step back, trying to put some distance between him and the Wraith-Human hybrid. "You would maybe send your minions for that, but to come yourself?"

"I told you, my agenda is my ow—"

"And to give us the lead on the Haradians…? Seems to me like you have some kind of grudge against this particular Hive." Sheppard knew he was playing with fire, taunting Michael as he was, but he was determined to get some answers.

"My busine—"

"And what did you do with Teyla's baby?" Sheppard risked a step forward, tightening his grip on his weapon and aiming a little closer at Michael. It was meant to be menacing.

"He is safe!" Far from being worried by Sheppard's actions, Michael grew angry. "Which is more than can be said for his mother!"

"I swear," Sheppard raised his voice, "if you so much as try and harm one hair on her head, I'll—"

"Me?" Michael snarled, as though the suggestion offended him. "She is in far greater danger from you! You do not deserve to have her at your side! You have used her… abused her, just as you did me!"

Sheppard frowned, worried and uneasy. It seemed to him that Michael knew exactly what had been going on in the city – exactly what Teyla had been subjected to, "How the—" he started, but his question was abruptly interrupted.

**

Alarms began to sound as yet another dart made a strafing run against the ship. Sparks lit up the bridge from the explosion caused by the weapons' hits.

"Shut that thing off!" Caldwell ordered, hardly able to hear himself think.

"Shields are down to thirty percent," Marks said solemnly as he silenced the alarm, "Colonel, we can't take much more of this. Whatever Sheppard is doing, he better do it fast. We're in bad shape."

"You don't need to tell me that," Caldwell nodded and returned to the command chair from looking out at the chaos of battle outside. As he threw himself into his seat, he ordered, "Take us out of orbit."

"We're running?" Marks asked, surprised.

Caldwell shook his head, "I won't leave them behind, but as it stands we're no use to them in orbit either. We can't beam them out of there until the engineers have gotten the beaming technology operational again. No… put those cruisers between us and that Hive. Let's at least use what resources are available to us… even if they _don't_ belong to us."

"Aye, Sir," Marks smiled and began to execute the orders Caldwell had given to him.

"Let's hope it's enough," Caldwell said darkly. He turned his attention to a study of the HUD, and couldn't help noticing that a single dart was somehow weaving its way through the battle toward the Hive ship.

**

The Queen snarled over her shoulder and Vega jerked her hands away quickly. She barely had herself away in time when the Queen got to her feet and began to descend the steps.

Agitation flooded over Vega, and it was only when she raised her head that she saw the reason for it. Todd strode across the chamber, and was clearly not in the mood for the Queen's idle seduction. Neither was the Queen in the mood to give it, Vega realised, as the Elder Wraith snarled at him.

"How _dare_ you come into my presence unannounced, uninvited—"

"It would have been more prudent for you to tell me that you intended only to use the humans to lure them here." Todd did not seem at all intimidated by her anger.

"I do not need to explain myself to _you_!" she hissed, and began to reach for him.

The instant before her hand struck his chest he lashed out and caught her wrist. Her other hand struck across, like a slap to his face, except that her fingers were leading, and left four parallel slices across his cheek. Almost immediately blood began to trickle from the cuts. Undeterred, he caught that wrist also, spinning her round to pin her in his arm against his chest. She struggled, snarling at him wordlessly, and Vega could only image the silent argument that must have been taking place. Finally the Queen began to still.

"Do not make the mistake that lesser Queens would make," he rumbled against her cheek. "These humans are not predictable, not able to be controlled as you are accustomed to. Take _great_ care if you are to use them further."

"I mean to bring the Renegade to heel," she hissed at him, though Vega could see and feel that she was calming somewhat more. Whether it was that she heard an implied respect in Todd's words, though Vega doubted that was what he was implying at all, or the fact of being pinned in his arms the way she was, Vega wasn't sure. The Queen went on, "And if the only way to do so is to threaten the humans of Atlantis, then that is what I will do."

Finally she pulled herself out of his arms, and, turning, reached up with the back of her hand to coat her fingers in the blood that seeped from his cheek. She tilted her head at him.

"You do not believe it has… affections for them?" she asked, and Vega guessed she had just read his mind. "…concern?"

"I believe that if defending them suits his agenda, then – as now – he will do so," Todd said, and Vega thought that he had carefully schooled his expression toward neutral. "But I believe it is as dangerous to assume that you can bend that one to your will as it is to assume that the humans will co-operate."

The Queen turned away, and began to walk back toward her throne. "And will they?" she asked.

"Doubtful," he said, "Now anyway. They were ready to do so, before you launched your ill advised attack. Now it is unlikely that they will trust even _me._"

"Then we must find a way to restore their faith in you." she purred as she sat. She held out her hand for cleaning, and absently said, "Call off the attack on the humans. Concentrate only on the Renegade."

Todd took in a breath, "Yes… my Queen," he added, perhaps sounding momentarily reticent. But he bowed, and turned ready to go and carry out her orders.

_=Wait!=_

The Queen's mental command was like a whip that travelled through the room, and split Vega's head like an axe, leaving it aching. The Elder Wraith Female turned her head to face Vega.

_=Go to him=_

Vega whimpered slightly at the crushing command and began to move her feet even before she fully understood the meaning of the words.

"I assure you that will not be necessary," Todd said, somewhat quickly. "I will wear the scars that you have given me with pride, my Queen."

The Queen's hold on her ended abruptly, and Vega, already half way across the chamber, almost fell to the floor as though her legs had been cut out from beneath her.

"She can at least _tend_ to you," the Queen said. It was clearly an order, even though her tone had softened. "I insist."

Todd gave a bow, and without waiting, turned and started for the door. Vega hurriedly got to her feet. Her legs were still shaking, but she knew that if she delayed, if she did not follow then it would be the worse for her.

**

"Find something to tie his hands," Lorne said as the Gate disengaged, and she was left in the dim light of the planet's late afternoon. Teyla shivered.

"Really, that won't be necessary," Woolsey said, "I have no intention of trying anything foolish. I mean to cooperate."

"Do it," Lorne snapped. "I don't want to have to keep the gun on him the entire time. There are other things to worry abou—"

"There are Wraith here," Teyla said, she felt the gnawing sensation in the pit of her belly and started looking around her as though she expected at least a dozen to jump out at them at any moment.

"Which is why I want his hands tied," Lorne nodded.

Woolsey sighed, but none the less did not struggle as she tore a strip from the bottom of her shirt and used it to tie his hands tightly behind his back.

"Now what?" Woolsey asked.

"Now we move," Lorne said, before in the next moment, he called her name.

She turned her head in time to see and catch the weapon he threw to her. She frowned at him in confusion.

"I do not understand," she said.

"I had to get you out of Atlantis," he told her. "They were not going to let you go, nor let you rest until you told them what they wanted to hear – no matter what _he_ said." Lorne jerked his head toward Woolsey, and then turned and looked first one way and then the other. "Come on, this way."

"The Wraith are that way," Teyla said.

"The Wraith are all around us, Teyla," Lorne said as he started walking, pulling Woolsey along by the arm. "It's why you're not supposed to be… but I had no choice."

"In case you didn't realise," Woolsey said to her as Teyla followed them, "he's probably taking you right back to Michael."

"I told you to be quiet!" Lorne pushed Woolsey sharply as he spoke through gritted teeth, as though the pains of his transformation were becoming strong again.

Teyla shook her head, though whether in denial of Woolsey's warning or in sympathy of Lorne's pain she was not sure. She hurried a few steps to bring her level with the others.

"Evan, listen to me," she said, "We are only two, and you are not well. We cannot stand against the number of Wraith on this world. We should go back to the Gate, find somewhere—"

"No," Evan grimaced, and for a moment faltered in his steps, raising his gun toward her again. "Here… here!"

"All right," she raised her hands, "All right… but Evan, at least let us find somewhere defensible… wait until there are fewer of them."

He looked at her intently for a moment or two, and then nodded. "Which way?" he asked.

She closed her eyes for a moment, a long, slow blink, before she began to lead, almost predatory in her movements, along a narrow gully in the rocks.

**

Vega's hand still shook a little as she poured water into a bowl. She jumped when the door of Todd's laboratory closed behind her.

"Are you insane, or do you just have a death wish?" she asked when she felt Todd move closer to her. In spite of her brave words, she flinched when he reached across her to pick up something from the bench and add a few drops of it to the water.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

She thought he sounded tired, so she said, "Sit down, and let me take care of that."

"I can manage," he rumbled, and picked up the sponge from the water, beginning to dab it against the cuts on his face.

"I'm sure you can," she hooked his arm and pushed him toward the stool beside the workbench, and then plucked the sponge from his hands. She dipped it into the water, before wringing it out and asking, "So, which is it?"

"Which is what?" he asked, and he turned his head a little away from her touch.

"Insanity or Suicidal tendencies?" she asked again. Growing bold, she took hold of his chin, and set about cleaning off the blood from his face.

"I was merely trying to make the Queen listen to reason." he told her, and with some little irritation, he plucked the sponge back out of her fingers, and continued to try and clean himself up.

"After the warning you gave me, about her," Vega said, pacing away a little, "you go and pull a stunt like _that_?" She turned around in time to see Todd tilt his head to one side, to regard her with curiosity. "What?"

"All of a sudden, you are… concerned for my well-being?"

"Look," feeling uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her, suddenly making her remember her state of undress, she wrapped her arms around herself, across her chest and belly, "I won't pretend that I like you, but as Wraith go, you're…" she struggled to find a way to describe him and eventually gave up, continuing anyway. "I figure you're my best chance of survival in this god-forsaken place… and if you go getting yourself killed by pissing off the uber-bitch, then—" she stopped when she realised he was laughing at her. "What!"

"You do _realise_ why she sent you with me, don't you?"

"Yes," she said, "to tend to your w—" again she stopped mid sentence, and tensed as he got up from the stool and started to walk toward her.

"You, my dear girl, are her attempt to bring me to heel," he told her as he advanced on her, and she backed still further away, "the _prize_ for my future co-operation; her attempt to… blind me to the many schemes with which she fills her every. Waking. Moment."

The back of Vega's hips and legs collided with the work bench at the side of the room. She had nowhere left to go and he, she thought, looked more than a little feral; hungry, though she doubted his intention was to feed.

"I… I don't…" she tried to slide sideways along the bench, but quickly found her escape cut off by his hand that slammed down beside her. "…you… I mean…"

She moved again, this time trying to duck under his arm, to move to the other side and slip away, but he was too close. He caught her as she ducked, his fingers closing almost delicately beneath her chin. She leaned backwards, her heart a frantic piston in her chest, blood ringing in her ears, certain that the entire ship was trembling in sympathy with her. Surely he could not be serious… he would not… they didn't – did they?

"Never forget," he growled as he held her against the work bench, barely a breath away from her, "where you are, and _who_ you are _with._"

_~Tell her _I_ will be sure that the Renegade is brought to her ~_

**

The shot from the blaster exploded against the rock wall beside them, showering both Michael and Sheppard with shards of flint. It broke the equilibrium between them. The speed with which Michael turned and automatically fired back in the direction from which the shot had originated stole Sheppard's breath. He'd known from the start that Michael possessed strength and speed – all Wraith did – but he had never expected something as deadly as that. In spite of his antagonism, Sheppard had to admire him for it.

A second shot slammed into the rock beside him, the splinters of flint that flew at his face, stinging sharply, reminding him of the danger he was in. Sheppard turned and he, too, fired at the group of Wraith that seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

Abruptly, Michael broke for cover and, wanting to keep his enemy within sight, in spite of the dangers it presented, Sheppard followed, firing every step of the way, as was Michael. The irony of being in a sudden pact of necessity with Michael against the Wraith did not escape him.

"And so again, you would use me to your own ends," Michael snapped, pausing in his assault against the Wraith warriors to thrust the accusation against Sheppard like a knife.

Sheppard ignored the barb, instead demanding accusatorily, "What the hell did you do to her!"

The blast from a Wraith weapon exploded close by his head and Sheppard half rolled around the rock behind which he was sheltering to return fire.

Michael snarled at Sheppard, and in his agitation turned and fired in his direction. The shot flew wide, but still Sheppard flattened himself against the rocks.

"Atlantis was supposed to be a place of safety," Michael growled.

"Maybe if whatever you did to her hadn't messed with her head," Sheppard spat, and broke off from returning fire to the Wraith, to aim a shot Michael's way.

"Her condition warrants torment? Abuse?" Michael snorted and, following a fierce barrage of fire from the Wraith, rolled into the open, coming to one knee to release a torrent of deadly fire their way. Several Wraith fell under his angry onslaught, before he launched himself to his feet again and sprinted for new cover. "And to think, you consider yourselves better than me… you are creatures… no better than animals!"

"Sticks and stones!" Sheppard yelled back, though in truth the words cut deeply. He hated the hurt he knew Teyla was suffering, blamed himself for it. He hated himself for not protecting her, from Michael, from Woolsey and Hollick… and sometimes even from herself. The thoughts and the pain they brought him built inside of him, until, growling from it all he pushed off from the rocks, and firing from the hip at the Wraith, who tried to cut him down, he rushed across the open ground toward where Michael had retreated. He was not going to let him get away this time.

One way or another, only one of them would walk away from this.

**

"How much farther?" Lorne gasped, and stumbling pushed Woolsey ahead into a small niche surrounded by rocks.

"We will rest here," Teyla said, looking around and assessing the bolt hole to be defensible – sheltered and relatively safe. "If any Wraith find us here, we can easily defend ourselves."

"I rather think," Woolsey said, lowering himself to a sitting position, "that it will be you doing the defending, Teyla. Look at him… he can hardly wal—"

"I'm all right!" snapped Lorne, straightening up. "I'm fine."

"You need to rest," Teyla told him. "Gather your strength, I will watch Mister Woolsey. You need your strength to fight this, Evan."

Lorne shook his head, "It's too late for that," he gasped, in spite of his words, still fighting the change that was creeping more rapidly over him.

"Besides," Woolsey added cheerlessly, "where would I go? With Wraith all around us, I stand more chance _with_ you even as your hostage, than out there alone."

"Then you also rest, Woolsey," Lorne told him. "And keep it down – they may be Wraith, but they're not deaf!"

Teyla walked to the only other exit from their little pocket of respite and peered into the darkness ahead. It was quite a steep climb to a dense wood of some kind, though not of any trees she knew. They were gnarled and twisted, and looked more like a strange kind of rocky sponge, than wood. Sighing, she set her back to the rock there and slid to a sitting position.

Why were they here? Why were the Wraith here? Was Woolsey right, and Evan, in some pre-programmed hybrid instinct, was heading for Michael, or his people. Could it bring her to her son…?

Tired, she closed her eyes, opening her other senses to compensate for lack of vision, and breathing softly, she began to reach out with her mind. After only a moment she gasped softly.

_Anger…an almost jealous need flooded through her, clouding her inner vision for several long heartbeats. Concentrating, she reached for the touch of the mind she sought…brought to mind the strangely long hallway and pictured the doorway at the end of it standing open and ready to receive her. She pushed aside the worry, the concern and sense of danger she felt nibbling at the edges of her vision. Slowly she walked down the corridor toward the chamber she knew would be waiting beyond it._

_She stepped across the threshold into the chamber. From above her, lights swirled and pulsated, dizzying her… grasping her belly and twisting it to knots of need. She felt the heat of desire sweep through her, an angry beast inside of her… instinct… need…_

_=So…=_

_The hissed word travelled through her like a shock of power from a ZPM, and the angry, needful presence wrapped itself around her, painfully pushing against her mind._

…_let me go…!_

_Frantically she began to push against the presence, a sickening recognition flooding into her. She had felt this before. She knew this touch. Had been warned against it… against seeking her out. But who…?_

_=you truly believe you can better me?=_

_The crushing hold on her mind tightened still further, triggering pain, and kindling panic inside of her. She had not expected this…how could she fight something she did not know? Where was her strength…? Where was her protection from this…?_

_In desperation she stopped fighting to free herself and instead pushed deeper into the sickening sea of rage, seeking egress from another path. Finding a shadowed corner of the mind in which she had unwittingly trapped herself she immersed herself in the darkness there._

_=No!=_

_Teyla gasped, pushing frantically at the denial she felt, calling out in her anxiety at the suddenly added sharpness of the mental attack now pressed against her._

…_Michael…!_

"Teyla!"

She gasped, and cried out at her sudden awakening to find Lorne crouching in front of her. His hands were on her shoulders, and he was still shaking her slightly. She reached out and grabbed the front of his medical scrubs.

"Get me up," she snatched a breath and her voice trembled. "We must leave here!"

**

Vega stayed within the shadow of the doorway, not wanting to approach the Queen when she was in a meditative state. She had done so once before and it was only the arrival of one of the Queen's commanders that had prevented her from being fed upon.

The Queen did not seem to be at peace. In her meditation she twitched and her face often fell into a frown. After another moment she let out a loud and angry hiss, and then moaned as though she were troubled or in pain.

Vega knew she should approach, should waken the Queen; soothe her needs and her desires and deliver Todd's message, his assurance to her… but after his untimely reminder of her condition, she did not in any way feel inclined to do anything for him, even if he had allowed her a moment or two of rest.

She was half way across the chamber when the Queen's eyes flashed open, glowing brightly, it appeared, in the agitation, the fury she felt. The lights in the chamber swirled from orange and yellow to deep, blood red in response to the Queen's mood.

"Find her!" The Queen growled and her voice was louder than Vega had ever heard, as though it echoed like cannon fire throughout the ship. "Bring her to me!"

_=Bring her to me… Find her!=_

The mental command was more than Vega could stand, and the last thing she saw as consciousness slipped from her was the looming presence of the Queen standing over her, menacing – deadly.

She had something to say, she could barely remember. Whispering, she quickly mouthed the words of the message over and over again, barely taking breath between each recitation.

**

Sheppard leaped, and dove into the small gulley behind the rocks to avoid being blasted out of existence by a bolt he knew he would not otherwise avoid. He rolled and came to his feet in time to see that Michael, weaponless and surrounded by three of the faceless Wraith warriors, was engaged in hand to hand combat.

Once again he found himself breathless in admiration of the Wraith-Human hybrid's strength and speed, only this time it angered him. Even with the superhuman speed and agility Michael possessed, against three Wraith, there was an outside possibility that one of them would get lucky, and would steal, from him, the chance to punish Michael for making him feel the way he did… for meaning even what little, he had to believe it was only a little, that Michael meant to Teyla.

"Michael!" he called to the beset hybrid, and when Michael barely glanced his way, Sheppard tossed the knife he wore at his belt to be caught effortlessly, and immediately turned against the Wraith warriors.

In the space of barely a breath, one of the Wraith fell away from the fight, clutching at his throat, before toppling backwards, his lifeblood pooling to stain the rocky ground beneath him.

He wanted to watch; to make sure that neither of the other two would gain the upper hand, but the splintering rocks beside him reminded him that there were still others out there intent on reducing both of them to smoking ruins of their former selves. He threw himself against the support of one of the rocky mounds and began to return fire.

He saw first one, and then another of the Wraith who pinned them in place by their gunfire, fall to his onslaught and couldn't help but wonder just how many of them there were. He glanced behind him to find Michael still holding his own, another of the Wraith fallen at his feet, but as he turned back to continue the gun battle with the others he heard an almost painful gasp from Michael's lips.

**

Teyla pushed her way through the branches of the trees. They were uncomfortably warm to the touch and seemed to respond to the brush of their bodies against them… sometimes recoiling from the contact and at other times seeming almost to crave it, their branches curling in response.

"Wait…!" Lorne gasped, and when she turned she saw him leaning heavily against the trunk of one of the trees. "I can't…!"

"Help him," she demanded of Woolsey.

"How?" Woolsey shrugged his shoulders as best he could with his hands tied behind his back.

Sighing, looking around them for several moments and cautiously reaching out with her senses. Finally, satisfied that they could afford a few moments, she said, "We will rest here for a moment."

She turned and came to Lorne's side to look on his with concern. His features now were fully those of Michael's hybrids, but his complexion was pallid, sickly. Biting her lip in concern, she helped him to sit and then to lie down on the ground. She slipped off her jacket, what little use it would be to him for warmth, and carefully laid it over him.

"Close your eyes," she told him, "We're safe for a moment. Evan—"

He reached out suddenly and grasped her wrist. "Teyla," he gasped, "You know what you have to do…. please…"

"Major," she shook her head, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You can stop this," he told her, squeezing his hand around her wrist until it became painful. She began to pull against the touch.

"Let go of me," she said, "Please… you're hurting me."

Abruptly he let go, curling up on himself a little, his face contorting with another wave of pain. She stumbled backwards, her heart twisting and feeling inadequate and suddenly cold with uselessness.

"Michael did this to him, you know," Woolsey said, looking between her and the major. "It could, just as easily, be you lying there."

"Save your accusations, Mister Woolsey, I have been told what happened, and that he survived because of this."

"Teyla," Lorne cried out her name again, struggling to sit up, but overwhelmed by the pain again he ended up merely falling back to the ground.

Almost in tears she slipped her hands into her pockets, and almost snatched them away again, as her fingers came into contact with the small cylinder – the vial she had taken from the refrigerator in the infirmary back on Atlantis. Cautiously she reached in again and took out the vial and the syringe.

"Please…" Evan locked his eyes with hers for a moment, until she looked down at the substance she held.

_Through the tears blurring her eyes, she dimly saw Michael move to retrieve a vial from a case he took from his belt… she could see no more as the dark took hold at last, but she felt him press something cold into her hand, carefully close her fingers around it._

_"You will need this," he said softly._

She didn't understand. She knew that for some reason Michael had given this to her, and suspected it was this which Lorne now pleaded to be given, but so many questions, so many doubts warred within her. Would it help or harm. If she gave this to him what would it mean, for her… for him…? What hidden agenda of Michael's would she be furthering in administering this to the major?

"Evan, I—"

"Please, Teyla," Lorne gasped, reaching out for her. "Trust—"

_-trust-_

"I want to," she took several faltering steps in his direction, "I do."

"Don't do it, Teyla," Woolsey said, strongly, authoritatively, "You have no idea what's in that thing. You could be killing him."

"Don't listen to him," Lorne gasped.

She looked between the two men, indecision raged inside of her, twisting every nerve and fibre of her. The major moaned again, biting his lip until he drew blood. She could not stand his pain any more. Quickly she went to his side, and began to draw up the fluid into the syringe.

"Teyla," Woolsey warned, "Think what you're doing."

"Quiet," she hissed at Woolsey. Her hand trembled as she raised the syringe to press gently against the plunger and expel the air.

"This is just what Michael wants." Woolsey refused to be silenced.

Her trembling only increased, along with the chaos of indecision inside of her, as she pushed back her jacket from where it covered Lorne's arm, and tried to find a vein into which she could inject the liquid from the vial.

"Hurry," Lorne gasped, his entire form shaking with the pain that was flowing through him.

"Teyla, this is not who you are," Woolsey stumbled across the small clearing toward her, falling to his knees at her side. "Michael wants you to do this; wants to have something he can hold against you—"

"Teyla," Lorne's voice, breathless with pain, grabbed her insides and twisted hard, adding to the confusion inside of her.

"Stop it," she said, barely a whisper.

"—You have no idea what's inside that vial, you could be taking another man's life at that creature's behest—"

"Don't listen to him," Lorne moaned.

Teyla shivered, trying not to listen to the two men, trying to find a point inside of her where she might see clearly the best cause of action, but their voices confused her, stopped her from thinking. "Don't…" she said, more loudly than before.

"—Could you live with that…?" Woolsey pressed.

"Teyla, please!"

"Shut up!" she all but cried out into the evening air, and reached out suddenly with her mind to try and find the one stability she craved.

**

Michael gasped… it could have been a name – _her_ name.

Sheppard turned suddenly at the sound of Michael's gasp. The Wraith-Human hybrid stumbled backwards a step, only a momentary lapse before he recovered his footing and lashed out toward the final Wraith. Caught off guard, perhaps believing, as Sheppard had, that he had injured Michael, the Wraith was vulnerable. Mercilessly, Michael stepped forward and drove the point of the knife upwards, into the soft, fleshy underside of his chin, and into his brain. The Wraith fell away – dead before he even hit the ground.

"Stay where you are!" Sheppard ordered, already covering Michael with his weapon.

Unexpectedly, Michael laughed, and spreading his arms to either side of him, turned to face Sheppard. In spite of himself Sheppard took a step back.

"Go ahead," Michael invited. "What are you waiting for?" When Sheppard didn't move, or pull the trigger, he went on, "The Wraith are withdrawing. They're not interested in us any more."

"You, you sorry son-of-a-bitch," Sheppard growled, "on your knees!"

"What purpose would it serve?" Michael's tone was mocking, taunting him as, far from getting on his knees, he began to walk toward Sheppard, his hands still open, arms still spread to the side. "It doesn't change the fact that you have lost her… pushed her away." Michael tilted his head to the side as he neared Sheppard, "How does it feel, Colonel Sheppard, to know that it's me she calls for in the dead of night; me she reaches for when she's in need, and this time—"

"I know what you're doing," Sheppard snarled, tightening his grip on his weapon, "and it's not going to work!"

"—none of it is my fault." Michael finished none the less. "Listen to yourself. You know I'm right."

"Whatever you did to her; whatever mind control you have on her—"

"If you believe that, then kill me now!" Michael demanded, suddenly, and momentarily angry.

Somewhere in the distance Sheppard barely registered the whine of a dart, but his own anger, risen as it was, refused to acknowledge the danger. He wouldn't fail Teyla, not again.

"Tell me what you did to her," he demanded, "Where is Teyla's son!"

"I don't think so," Michael answered.

Without warning, Michael dove aside as a Dart flew past at low altitude, barely skimming the top of the rocks, firing its weapons as it came. Sheppard rolled aside, scarcely making it behind the shelter of the rocks, and rolled to bring his weapon to bear against the attacking Dart. The second Dart, following in its wake, activated its culling beam and swept over the rocks as it went.

Sheppard heard a familiar high pitched whine, and the sound of running feet. Ronon came running into the clearing, firing at the retreating Darts.

"Damn it!" Sheppard spat as he got to his feet, peering into the darkened sky after the retreating Darts. He cursed himself for seven different kinds of fool that he'd let Michael's taunting get to him… buy him time to call in his men.

"We got problems," Ronon growled as he reached his side. To give the Satedan his due, Sheppard was glad that he'd ignored his outburst.

"Oh yeah?" he asked breathlessly, "Tell me something I _don't_ know."

"Whoever's in charge of the Wraith out here has sent in the hunters." Ronon told him. "They're looking for someone… and I don't think it's Michael."

Sheppard frowned and was about to answer when the radio crackled into life.

"_Sheppard, this is Daedalus, come in._"

"Go ahead, Steven," Sheppard said, his tone resigned.

"_Colonel, I just received a coded message from McKay, via subspace. Major Lorne has taken Woolsey and Teyla hostage. He brought them here through the gate._"

Sheppard exchanged a frown with Ronon. Overhead, the whine of a small number of Wraith Darts flying a search pattern disturbed the silence of the evening air. The worry on Ronon's face became intense.

"Teyla," he said, and snatching his blaster out from its holster again, he set off at a run in the direction of the Gate.

**

Her eyes blurred with tears, and her hand still shook as she lowered the needle toward the raised vein in Lorne's arm. She was fighting with herself… if only she could be sure.

"Teyla," Woolsey said, his tone almost pleading with her to stop, more than warning her of the consequences.

Lorne barely winced as the tip of the needle pressed into his skin, but it was enough to draw the sob from her chest. She pulled back her hand, and the needle away from him.

"I can't," she cried.

Woolsey let out a sigh of relief, and sat back on his heels.

Weeping, Teyla put the cap back onto the needle, and wiped angrily at her tears. She felt sickened at her own indecision, at her failure to help a friend.

Overhead, the sound of Wraith Darts made both Woolsey and Major Lorne look up. She merely said, "They are coming."

"They're searching for you." Lorne forced the words past the pain.

"Major, I am sorry, I—"

Lorne reached out and gripped her hand. "It's all right, Teyla," he said. "Go. Leave me here. I'll only slow you down."

"No, Evan, I'm going to get you out of here, I—"

"Please," he gasped, "Don't… Head back to the gate - get out of here!"

She looked at him and shook her head, her face creasing, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly. He took the weapon from beside him and pressed it into her hands.

"Please, Teyla… Go," he gritted his teeth to get the words out, "you don't have much time!"

"Evan," she breathed, and putting the syringe into his hand, she leaned down to softly kiss his brow. He closed his eyes as she scrambled to her feet and angrily snatched at Woolsey's arm to drag him along at her side.

"You did the right thing, Teyla," he told her solemnly, then winced as she pressed the gun against his ribs.

"One more word from you, and I will shoot you where you stand," she growled. "You are _worthless_ compared to men like Major Lorne."

**

Tracking in such a rocky terrain and with the poor quality of light was testing every level of skill Ronon possessed. As he crouched beside what few visible scuffmarks they had been able to find, Sheppard covered him.

"Come on, Ronon, which way," he said impatiently.

"Give me a minute," Ronon said, shaking his head. "The tracks are only partly visible, like… someone else came this way."

"Which means they're being followed and we haven't got much time… so which _way?_"

Finally making a decision, Ronon got to his feet and tapped Sheppard's arm. "This way. Come on!"

**

"Teyla…" Woolsey said, though he did not need to give her the warning as they rounded a bend in the rocky path that led down from the elevated woodland toward the Gate.

From behind the rocky columns three Wraith Hunters stepped out to block their path. In their arrogance none of them carried stunners, only bladed weapons, which they turned, tauntingly over and around their hands.

Without a pause, Teyla pushed Woolsey aside. He fell, but without complaint scrambled toward the shelter of the rocks there. Teyla fell into a crouch in the middle of the pathway between the Wraith and Woolsey.

Woolsey shivered as Teyla tipped her head slowly to the side as she watched their approach. She looked almost Wraithlike herself. It was a moment held on the most slender edge of equilibrium, like a single strand of a web, and then one of the Wraith moved, lunging toward Teyla, knife blade leading.

She responded by throwing her arm out in an arc before her, opening her hand and letting the dust she had gathered fly out toward the faces of the Wraith. At the same time she reached past the incoming blade to grasp the wrist of the wielder, and dropping below his centre of balance, she used his momentum to tip him over her shoulder, twisting his arm until there was an audible crack. The Wraith roared in pain, and opened his hand, to allow her to take the blade herself. Without waiting she plunged the blade into the Wraith's chest, and twisted it.

The other Wraith, recovered from the dust she had flung into their eyes, and enraged by her audacity, came at her. Both of them together they reached for her as she still crouched over their fallen brother. Teyla rolled between them, kicking out with one foot as she went past them, bringing one of the Wraith to his knees, and giving her time to find her feet behind them.

Woolsey tried to make himself smaller, to fit between the rocks and avoid notice. As he did, his hand came down on a sharp piece of broken flint rock, and he winced. His luck held, however. The Wraith were too focussed on Teyla to bother with him. He quickly manoeuvred his hands until he could pick up the flint and begin sawing at his cloth bonds.

Teyla blocked first one side and then the other, blocking with her forearms and then spinning to lash out with a kick toward the leading Wraith. He grunted and fell back a little, leaving Teyla the space to concentrate on his companion. Balanced on one foot, she spun again and leading with her elbow, passed inside the longer reach of the Wraith, and connected heavily with the pointed part of her elbow against the Wraith's nose. Completing her spin she snatched the knife from his hand, and fell back to crouch, waiting, and turning the two knives she now held over her hands.

Woolsey shivered again at the feral look in her eyes as she faced off against the Wraith Hunters… one armed, the other not, though he did not seem in the least bit worried by that, as he came on in a vicious blurring attack against the smaller Athosian woman.

Teyla met and blocked each of his open handed attacks, slashing out with the knives to keep his hands at bay, trying to slip past his defences again.

She backed up, one step at a time, and Woolsey redoubled his effort to try and get his hands free of the bindings. If she went much further she would have her back to the rocks, be cornered, and pressed against them. Before she could get that far she dropped one of the knives and made a grab for the Wraith's arm, and all but rolled around him, all in a blur of motion that put her behind him. She turned the remaining knife over in her hand and drove it home into the base of his skull, kicking at the middle of his back to send him away from her and headlong into the rocks. Then she bent down to scoop up the fallen knife.

The remaining Wraith came at her as she did, grabbed her by the hair and pulled her off balance, backwards against him. Taking her feet off the ground, he wrapped his fingers around her neck. Quickly she turned her remaining knife in her hand, and thrust it backwards. The Wraith roared out his pain as the knife embedded in his side, and he tossed Teyla toward the rocks, where she fell heavily, and moaned a little as she tried to find her feet.

Seeing her momentarily stunned by the fall, Woolsey redoubled his efforts to free his hands. He had almost cut through most of the twisted fabric and could barely reach any more, taking a deep breath he began to strain to pull his hand apart, all the time keeping his eyes fixed on Teyla and the Wraith.

He had barely seconds, he knew. The Wraith was steps away from her, and Teyla was only just beginning to rouse herself. There was no way she would be able to fight as she had been.

The grinning predator leaned down, his hand extended toward the barely mobile Athosian.

The gunshot was deafening in the enclosed space, as it echoed around the rocks. The Wraith stumbled away from Teyla, and then fell over backwards, blood spreading from the wound she had delivered, point blank, against his chest.

The sound of it startled Woolsey and he suddenly jerked his hands apart. He let out a small cry as his hands scraped against the rocks to either side of him. He looked up to find Teyla standing over him, weapon pointed in his direction. She was breathing hard, and a small line of blood trickled from a cut to her forehead, but she appeared, otherwise, unharmed.

"Move," she told him as she pulled him to his feet.

**

"Over here!" Ronon's urgent call spurred his aching legs to make the climb through the spongy woodland at a greater pace. His muscles burned, but the ever increasing sound of wraith Darts, drawing nearer in their search pattern, reminded him he couldn't afford to give up.

"It's Lorne," Ronon told him as he caught up. "He's hardly breathing."

Sheppard crouched beside the two of them, trying to be careful of the tracks. "What happened here," he asked. Carefully, he moved Lorne, from the curled up position he'd adopted. The marine's muscles were almost rigid, contorted as though in great pain. He swore softly as he looked at the man.

Ronon studied the ground beside him, "Looks like two people were kneeling here… I'd say Teyla here," he pointed, "and Woolsey here. She was leaning toward Lorne, Woolsey leaning toward her. Something about his balance is off… like maybe… maybe his hands are bound or something."

"What's this?" Sheppard carefully unwrapped Lorne's finger from around a syringe filled with a strangely luminous liquid. He held it up for Ronon to see.

From beside Lorne's arm, Ronon picked up a vial, which held traces of the same liquid inside. "There's another one here."

"I'm starting to get a picture here," Sheppard said, darkly, "And I'm not sure I like it." He keyed the headset mic, "Daedalus, this is Sheppard. How're those repairs coming?"

"_If you mean do we have beaming capability, the answer is no. How's it going down there?_"

"We've found Lorne," Sheppard said. "He's hurt, or sick… something. Wraith are concentrating on searching for the others, looks like."

"_I'd send you a medic if I could,_" Caldwell answered, "_But it's all we can do to keep those cruisers between us and the Hive._"

"We'll have to get him to the Gate," he told Ronon as much as he told Caldwell, "Come on."

Ronon shook his head, "You go after Teyla… I'll get Lorne to the Gate."

"It's not a good idea to split up,"

"Sheppard—"

A single gunshot rang out, echoing in the night sky as though it came from nearby, inside of caves or rocks. Sheppard looked in the direction of the sound, hesitating until Ronon thumped his shoulder.

"Go!" he said. "I'll get Lorne to the Gate."

**

"Teyla, stop and think about what you're doing for a minute," Woolsey said urgently. She ignored him, concentrating on the DHD in front of her, and on keeping the weapon levelled in his general direction. Her head hurt and she ached from her head to the middle of her back, and along her left leg, where the Wraith had thrown her.

Finally the memory of the address she wanted came to the front of her uncooperative memory. "I must leave this place," she told him, without looking around. Finally she began to dial.

"Where will you go?" Woolsey asked, taking a step toward her.

She glanced around at him, correcting her aim on him, and paused in dialling to shake her head, warning him to stay where he was. "It is of no concern of yours," she said coldly.

"Look," he said, "I know you want to find your son, maybe even exact retribution against Michael for what he's done, but… don't you think you stand a better chance of doing that with the resources of Atlantis behind you – with the help of Colonel Sheppard and the team?"

She snorted at him in disgust. "Do you believe I could ever trust you again, Mister Woolsey, after all that you have put me through. Even if John… and the others are not acting under your authority and the authority of your IOA – how could I ever know or trust that you act for the good of the people of Pegasus?" She shook her head. "No… I have to leave this place."

Feeling hollow, as the meaning of her own words trickled through her consciousness, to seep into her limbs and fill them with lethargy; dull the beating of her heart, she turned and completed the dialling sequence. Waiting with tears beginning to gather inside of her, tears she refused to shed, until the initial rush of the wormhole had died away to a shimmering stability, she leaned against the DHD.

"Teyla, don't—" Woolsey started, but she did not – could not – allow him to complete the sentence.

"Perhaps," she said, pulling herself away from the console, "after I have had the time I need to gather my thoughts, and piece together my fractured mind…" she shook her head and checking the breech of her weapon, and emptying it of the round already in the chamber, then removing the ammunition clip, she tossed the weapon over to him. A second later, she threw the ammunition to land on the ground beside his feet.

"You can't just—"

"I would imagine Colonel Sheppard and the others would have heard the gunshot. It will not take Ronon long to track us here." She nodded to the gun in his hands, "If any Wraith find you in the meantime, you have the weapon to keep yourself safe."

She turned then, and took a step toward the Stargate, and with a glance up the trail from which they'd arrived, she stepped within.

**

Michael paused in packing the vials into the padded case and breathed out an audible sigh, tilting his head. His hand moved to a new position against the side of the refrigeration device from which he was taking the results of his endeavours. He did not need to hear the slight scuff of boots against the rocky ground to know that he was no longer alone. Nor did he need to hear the sibilant growl to know that it was not his lieutenant that disturbed him. He made no move to turn around.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," he said softly, almost calmly in warning. "If my hand leaves its place, we will both of us be dead and locked inside this rocky tomb."

"I find it hard to believe that you would sacrifice yourself, and so many years of toil, simply to prevent me from achieving what I came here to do," the other said.

"If that is a risk you wish to take; is what you choose to believe," Michael almost purred, adding in bitter sarcasm, "then go ahead, pull the trigger… take your _prize_ back to your Queen."

The other growled softly in response and Michael felt the tension in the laboratory increase, as though the very air itself had thickened around them, but he heard the other lower his weapon, none the less.

_~face me!~_

The pressure built slowly, but with an undeniable strength, pushing at the centres of his mind that could be used to force his motor functions… He expected it; was already guarding against it. He knew this one – they had faced off against each other before… and no doubt would do again, should they survive this first, true encounter in many, many centuries. He allowed the contact briefly, before he brought down the force of his own mental strength… in sufficient measure.

_-do not presume to dominate me!- - do not presume!- -do not!-_

**

As he met the resistance, recalled the touch of the mind within his own from the last, brief touch, when he had used the scientist's weapon against him, he could not deny that the mind, at least, was untouched, untainted by the stain of the human transformation. He pushed against the dark spaces he could sense within the Renegade's mind, but could not pass the painful confusion set up as a barrier – a defence.

After several long and breathless moments, Todd gasped and broke off the mental assault and the covert attempt to use it as a mask to slip beneath the safeguards The Renegade had in place against its former brothers. As he fought to regain his breath he watched as it finally turned away from its equipment, quickly keying a security code as it stepped away.

He couldn't help but draw in another gasping breath at its appearance. Certainly the pallid, slightly mottled skin and raised blood vessels were a testament to The Renegade's former self, but the colour in its hair, the ancillary sinus grooves, and his eyes… the strange combination of Wraith and human was too much for Todd.

"I disgust you," The Renegade accused softly.

"Surprise," Todd lied… barely able to keep the revulsion from his voice.

The Renegade snorted in disbelief.

"You should know better than that," it said, and slowly began to circle the room toward Todd.

"Come now," Todd moved with him, circling in the same direction, to keep the same distance between them, more than aware of how dangerous this individual could be. "Surely we can settle this like civilised—"

"What?" The Renegade spat bitterly, spreading its arms to either side of itself, "Wraith?"

"Hardly," Todd said coldly.

**

Almost as though by tacit agreement, each of them suddenly broke from their circling to rush at the other. Growling and snarling, each snatched a weapon from their belts and clashed together. Sparks illuminated the dimly lit laboratory, revealing the many grotesque specimens, preserved in jars, previously hidden in the shadowed corners of the room.

Pain lanced along his upper arm, as the other's blade cut deeply as they spun away from each other. Hissing, he threw himself into a roll that took him beneath the spinning leather of the other's coat, masked his counter attack as he came up beside him again, blade leading, to strike, fast and deep against the Wraith's side.

The other roared as they separated again… to circle warily, bloodied knives extended, neither giving ground to the other.

"I never would have believed that her plan would work, not where you were concerned," The other purred, "To lure you here with the threat to the Lan—"

"They mean nothing to me!" Michael snarled. "My work is here. Did you think I would allow her to take what is mine, without the slightest resistance? Those times are _long_ gone."

"I believe it is more than that," the other challenged, an edge of amusement in his voice. "I believe you received intelligence of our proposed alliance against you and sought to prevent it."

"You flatter yourself," Michael taunted, "if that is what you believe."

**

The Renegade flew at him again, knife leading, faster than ever he had seen another move. He stood his ground, as long as he dared, and at the last second ducked aside, hooking the Renegade's arm and twisting violently until it had no choice but to release its hold on the knife.

Still holding fast to its arm, Todd began to drive it toward the nearest bank of shelves; to smash it headlong into the dusty scientific paraphernalia. Glass shattered, and covered them both in the foul smelling contents; preserving fluids and the accumulated slime of centuries.

Neither flinched. There would be time for the niceness of bathing and cleansing later, should either of them survive. Snarling, pain flaring from the injury in his side, Todd spun The Renegade, holding him in place against the broken shelves. The instinct for survival gnawed at him, the deep wound would weaken him. He could not afford for that to happen. At his side, his hand twitched slightly.

"I would have thought that you were wiser than that," the Renegade gasped against his hold. "Do you not think I would have protected myself from that eventuality, infected myself with the Hoffan drug?"

"How do _you_ know I have not found a cure; a protection… after all – you did send the Queen that _wonderful _little human, as a gift." Todd countered, and with mounting anger, challenged, "Did you think I wouldn't realise?"

"You protect her?" The Renegade hissed in disbelief.

"I protect _myself_!" Todd snarled, and flexed his wrist as he thrust his hand suddenly toward The Renegade.

**

Michael tensed, accepting the pain of the blade that had extended from the sheath in the other's wrist-guard and was now embedded deep within the top of his chest, right beside his shoulder. Ignoring the added pain the movement caused he reached suddenly forward, beneath the Wraith's extended hand, and with the jagged piece of broken glass he held, twisted it in the wound already there.

The other roared in pain, and pulled away, stumbling backwards, and coming to rest, breathless and on one knee. It did not take his acute sense of smell for Michael to know that the other was bleeding badly.

He pulled himself from the shelves where he still leaned and approached the Wraith, circling him, but making no move to strike the killing blow. He had something far more insidious in mind. Almost leisurely, he reached down for his fallen knife.

"You know, the irony is, I never asked for any of this," he waited until the breathless Wraith looked up at him. "I was taken prisoner by the humans, tortured, experimented on." Again he reached down and picked up the Wraith's discarded blade, as well, weighing each in his hands. "And when I finally escaped and returned to my Wraith brothers, instead of being welcomed back, I was met with scorn."

"You know you cannot deny her for long," the other said, pain evident in his voice.

"She denied _me!_" Michael growled, in fury, and then coming to one knee behind the kneeling Wraith he grasped his hair, and pulled back his head. Pushing his knife into the other's hand, he hissed dangerously against the Wraith's cheek, "Tell her… I _defy_ her!"

**

Todd barely breathed as the Renegade had him, vulnerable. He let out a long and angry hiss of his own as he was released. The Renegade would pay for what had happened here, and he would see to it that it would be long, and slow, and painful.

He heard the Renegade's rapid retreat and was not foolish enough to wait much longer than it took him to gather his dignity, before he climbed painfully to his feet, and he, too, made his way quickly from the ancient, underground facility.

He would have to feed in order to regain his full strength, but now he had an added reason to comply, albeit for only as long as it served his purpose, with the Queen's authority.

**

"Teyla, wait!"

Sheppard came running down the trail toward the Gate in time to see her crossing into the event horizon.

"Damn it!" he added a second later as the Gate disengaged before he could follow, or before he could turn his head to read the signs, still lit, on the DHD. He turned full circle and fixed a desperate gaze on Woolsey. "Where did she go?"

"I… I don't know," Woolsey confessed helplessly, "I didn't see what she dialled. I was too busy trying to talk her _out_ of it if you must know."

"Damn it, have you _any_ idea how _pissed_ McKay is going to be when I haul his ass back here to try and work through the… millions of permutations she could have dialled. I—" he stopped as another thought crossed his mind and sank him even further into despair. In frustration he lashed out and kicked the base of the DHD. It didn't make him feel in the slightest bit better. He threw up his hands and all but yelled. "We can't even do _that_!"

"What do you mean," Woolsey asked cautiously, as though fearing to further enrage Sheppard.

"Well, unless the engineers aboard Daedalus can repair the beating the beaming technology took," he gestured toward the inactive Gate, "the Gate is the only way we have of getting back to Atlantis any time soon… and it has to be soon, the state Lorne is in."

As if conjured by the mention of Lorne's name, Ronon came slipping down the path toward them. Over his shoulder he carried the unconscious man, while in his hand he held his blaster at the ready.

"Where is she?" he asked, looking between Woolsey and Sheppard, before setting Lorne gently onto the ground beside the DHD. Sheppard gestured helplessly toward the Gate. "So where did she go?"

"He doesn't—"

"I didn't see the address she dialled," Woolsey said tiredly, "I'm sorry. But under the circumstances, it might be beneficial all around for her to… distance herself from Atlantis for a while… find a little perspective. It might even encourage her to cooperate and tell us—"

Faster than he'd seen Ronon move against anyone other than Michael himself, the big Satedan advanced on Woolsey, the musical sound of his blaster charging filling the air.

"Ronon!" Sheppard called, as Ronon angrily levelled his weapon at Woolsey's head. The colour at the top of the grip showed red in the dim light. "Ronon, no!"

"When will you get it through you head that she's telling the truth," the Satedan yelled, "She can't tell you what she doesn't know!"

Quickly, Sheppard moved and pushed the barrel of the gun away from Woolsey. "Leave it, buddy. He isn't worth it," he said.

Ronon took a breath, as did Woolsey, when the former runner backed down.

In the moment that followed, Woolsey all but flew backwards as Sheppard's roundhouse caught him square in the mouth. He stumbled backwards, to land heavily in the dirt.

"Colonel Sheppard—" he began to protest.

"This is your fault!" Sheppard snapped, gesturing around him. "If you hadn't _pushed_ so hard, then none of this would have happened."

He would have said more, but the quiet moan from Major Lorne prevented it, which, on later reflection, he was sure he would conclude was a good thing.

**

In spite of his injuries, Michael walked so quickly, a smouldering anger in his step, that his hybrid lieutenant almost had to jog to keep pace with him.

"Instruct our cruisers to be ready to withdraw as soon as we are on board," Michael said. He barely paused to rapidly key a code into the Wraith tablet he carried. He pushed the button to execute the command.

From deep beneath the ground a rumbling began, and spread the length of the short valley, before the dust and smoke from the subterranean explosions burst from the suddenly enlarging fissure and undulate, wavelike, in Michael's wake.

"But I thought—" his lieutenant began as they reached the side of Michael's scout ship.

He paused as he began to climb aboard, to glance over his shoulder at the hybrid. His subordinates' continuous questioning began to grate on what reserves of patience he possessed and momentarily, he questioned the wisdom of allowing them greater autonomy. However, if his plan were to succeed, it was a necessary evil, and they remained loyal. That, for the moment, was what mattered.

"She is no longer here," he said, "and we have much work to attend to."

**Act 5**

"So what are you saying, Doctor Keller," Woolsey asked quietly, as he looked down on the restrained and sedated Lorne. The major appeared to be fully hybrid, barely recognisable as the loyal soldier he once had been.

"Nothing that I haven't said before." Keller sighed. "I've done everything I can, and while Michael might be able to reverse this, I can't… certainly not now."

"What do you mean?" Woolsey asked with a frown.

"What was in that syringe we found," Sheppard interrupted, "and the vial?"

"That's just it," Keller said. "When I got Lorne back here and ran the tests, his human DNA had been almost completely subsumed by the Wraith DNA… but the Wraith cells were still dividing."

"Are you saying," Ronon tried to put everything together, "that he's going to turn completely? Become a Wraith?"

Keller shook her head. "It doesn't work like that. The Wraith cells need something to feed on, in order to keep dividing."

"You're saying he was literally… feeding on himself," McKay said, making the leap.

Keller nodded solemnly, and then said slowly, "Until I gave him the serum."

"You _gave_ him that stuff," Sheppard said in disbelief, "without knowing what the hell it was?"

"No, of course not!" Jennifer said, irritated. "I took a sample of Lorne's blood, and added the serum to it. The result was almost instantaneous in the small sample I ran. The serum stopped the Wraith cells from feeding – stabilised them completely. I realised that it was the only way to save the major, but…"

"…it's also made this change irreversible." Sheppard finished her sentence, and she nodded sadly.

"At least by me," she said.

**

McKay sighed as he began to walk from the isolation room. It wasn't long before he heard the footsteps behind him, and the light touch fell against his arm.

"Rodney, do you have a minute?"

"Sure, Jennifer, what do you need?" he gave her a smile he didn't really feel.

"Actually, it's what I can give you," she said to him. "I have the results of those genetic tests you asked me to do. Come into my office. We can talk in there."

Frowning he followed her inside, and waited while she shut the door, and reached for a file that she had locked away in the back of her desk drawer.

"I don't think I like the way you just did that," he said, nodding toward the desk.

"I don't think that this is information that should be going anywhere any time soon," she said, glancing toward the door, "If you get what I mean."

She handed the file to him, and he laid it on the desk to open it. Test by test he looked at the result… the specific marker he had suspected would be there, stood out glaringly against all of the others.

"So it's true then," he said, "this Wraith _is_ one of the oldest living—"

"That particular sequence of chromosomes there – I've seen it countless times, in much of the Wraith DNA we've seen or have on file." she nodded, "I think you could probably, safely say that she's the grand-mommy of the Wraith we know today."

Rodney frowned, and began to look more worried with each of the test results he saw. Turning over another sheet he happened to look up at Jennifer. She was chewing on her lip. He couldn't recall every seeing her do that before.

"What is it?" he asked, letting go of the papers as though, if he did that, he could be spared from having to face whatever it was that was worrying the doctor.

"There's more, Rodney," she said. "I know you didn't ask me to do this, but… with all the fuss Woolsey's been making about Teyla, I wanted to try and give her something that might help – some answers, you know? Defensive ammunition?"

"And?" he prompted.

"You know that old saying, '_Don't ask questions unless you really want to know the answers_?'"

"No, but go on anyway." he said.

Taking a deep breath, Jennifer reached to the back of the file, and picked up the results of a PCR test and handed it to him, before handing him a second sheet. "I ran a comparison between that, and the one I made from some blood and tissue samples I took from Teyla when we first got her back from Michael. Those are the results." she said.

Rodney looked back and forth between the two, frowning as he studied them. The more he looked, the deeper he frowned until he couldn't deny what his eyes were telling him any longer.

"Oh my God!" he breathed in shock. "Oh my God, does she know? She doesn't know…"

_To be continued…_


End file.
